


No Hesitation

by risquetendencies



Series: and they were spies... [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Blood and Injury, Crimes & Criminals, Developing Friendships, Established Kuroken, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroo needs a vacation, M/M, Sequel, in which snakes steal jewels and cats give chase
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: Secret agent Kuroo thought he'd won by arresting his long-time nemesis Daishou for jewel and antiquities theft. But in his absence, Daishou's fiancée Mika has begun her own crime spree. Is there a motive to the madness, or is all of Nohebi just bent on making him work hard?In between missions, Kuroo thinks his life is pretty sweet. He's ready to introduce Kenma to his civilian friends, and despite the hiccup of having to lie about their careers, he thinks it will go well. So why does Kenma seem pensive about Bokuto and Akaashi?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Daishou Suguru/Yamaka Mika, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: and they were spies... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926520
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	1. what you know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey! This story is a direct sequel to my spy AU fic [First Contact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809519), so I recommend starting with that one. FC was originally written in 2017 for KuroKen Sin Week, and I always loved the world, so I'm thrilled to be back in it again.
> 
> If this is your first trip into this AU, welcome! I hope you enjoy the spies, snakes, and sappiness in between.

He faced a serious dilemma.

Tetsurou glanced between his options and let his brain sink comfortably into weighing the two. There was the kitchen, which needed a deep clean and organizing. Then there was the laundry. It wasn’t a mountain yet, but it was better to be on top of things before the clothes pile spiraled out of control. Maybe he could flit back and forth between the tasks. Sort the laundry into whites and colors, then wipe down the kitchen counters?

Crooking a finger, Tetsurou held it against his mouth as he mapped out the most efficient plan.

“If you need to do something, Cloud’s food dish is empty.”

Blinking, he turned and found Kenma behind him.

“Kenma, I thought you were-”

“I finished the level.” Kenma stared at him. “You’ve been standing there a while.” His voice belied a hint of exasperation. Okay, more than a hint.

Tetsurou blinked again. “Have I?”

The other man nodded.

“Guess I didn’t realize.” Tetsurou sighed loudly. A frown lined his face. “That’s what I get for insisting on a day off. Yakkun gives me one and I don’t even know what to do with it.”

Kenma folded his arms over his chest, blocking the bronze triforce logo emblazoned on his shirt. He continued to stare up at Tetsurou as if measuring his next words. There was a heaviness in the silence that didn’t sit well, and without prompting, Tetsurou’s nerves began to jitter around in the pit of his stomach.

What?

He’d reiterated time and again, all internally of course, how much he adored Kenma’s mind. But there was something about being the focus of that sharp, analytical brain that ignited his anxiety. It was like being under a microscope. Nothing got past Kenma, least of all his shenanigans. Judging by that expression, Kenma had noted something particularly foolish he'd done.

After another minute passed, Kenma let his arms fall to his sides. His golden eyes narrowed, but flicked away from Tetsurou’s face, breaking their contact to gaze at the floor.

“I won’t tell you to relax. But you’re getting too worked up about this dinner.”

Tetsurou’s breath caught in his throat.

“Oh. You noticed that.”

He didn’t know why he was surprised. As previously stated, it was rare that anything he did or felt escaped Kenma. Which was an asset on missions, or a curse when he neglected to follow instructions, but in their personal life, it was just a fact. One that worked both ways. More and more, Tetsurou thought he could read Kenma too.

But Kenma had the edge when it came to concealing his emotions. If he truly didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking, he was good at hiding it. Tetsurou couldn’t claim the same.

“They’ve been friends with you since middle school. They won’t throw that away if they don’t like me.”

The what-ifs lobbing against the walls of his gut paused for a moment, frozen still as Tetsurou’s brain considered a new possibility.

Deep down, that wasn't everything, was it? He’d brooded over countless hopes that the dinner with Bokuto and Akaashi would go ‘well’ but had never stopped to analyze. Sure, he'd hoped that Kenma would gel with two of his oldest friends, but that covered only some of his apprehension. This wasn’t just about what he wanted. He didn’t want to put Kenma in a stressful situation.

Long before they’d met in person, Tetsurou had realized part of the reason Kenma had transferred from field agent to handler was his comfort level with people. Managing agents remotely was a lot less taxing for him than being out and having to react in real time. He didn’t have to improvise or play a role for the sake of the mission. Those were aspects that Tetsurou enjoyed, but it was clear that Kenma hadn’t, and didn’t. Which was fine, but it made the wheels in Tetsurou's brain spin when he considered the upcoming dinner.

He wasn’t sure what to think.

On one hand, he knew his friends. Bokuto hit like a truck with his personality, but he was earnest and friendly. He’d welcome Kenma with open arms because that was the guy he was. Akaashi was not incredibly approachable. But once he had thoroughly vetted you and worked you into his mental calculus, he was a solid friend to have around. Tetsurou wasn’t sure how close he’d say he and Akaashi were, but he hadn’t been frozen out yet. So pretty close, for someone who wasn’t Bokuto.

In any event, having a dinner double-date of sorts was going to be a crapshoot. He’d tried to make concessions to increase the odds of success but the night could pan out either way.

The dinner was at Akaashi and Bokuto’s house. That detail played to Akaashi’s preference for routine, and Bokuto’s love of cooking for others. For Kenma, the obvious concession was limiting the number of new faces he would be exposed to.

But it only took one bad introduction to spoil an evening.

“I’m not worried about that!” Tetsurou declared. “It’s going to go great.”

Kenma arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Kuro. You just felt like doing laundry twice in the past three days.”

Tetsurou pouted.

“Okay, so maybe I’m having some pregame jitters!”

Once the breathiness in his voice resolved, he cringed at how defensive he sounded. Where were those polished acting skills he had claimed to have earlier? If he could smooth talk criminals and the odd politician who didn’t moonlight as one, he could manage downplaying his nerves. Right?

It felt like he was missing something in this conversation. All he could tell was that his behavior was on review, and the last thing he wanted was to have his neuroses laid bare. But by the way Kenma was acting, it seemed like there was more to it.

Tetsurou’s suspicion deepened moments later. 

Kenma didn’t look up from the carpet. Gaze fixed down, it took him time to respond. Rather than saying anything, he swept toward the living room, leaving Tetsurou to follow in his slow wake. By the time Kenma opened his mouth, he had reclaimed his earlier perch on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. Instead of a game controller, he balanced his arms on top. To say he seemed pensive would have been an understatement.

Tetsurou sat down beside him carefully, unsure of whether he should stick so close but wanting to do it anyway. In front of them, the title screen of Kenma’s latest conquest played its theme on loop. Soft harp notes blended with piano notes, creating an atmosphere that ran counterpart to the tension playing out between them. Relaxing music only had so much restorative power.

“I know you’re worried. About me.”

Tetsurou remained silent, but his heart began to dance the same halting rhythm as his stomach had churned with before. He was that easy to read, huh?

Kenma huffed. “I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or not.”

An interjection sounded on Tetsurou’s tongue, but one glare from Kenma sapped his initiative. Kenma wasn’t done talking, even if his lumbering pace made it seem otherwise. It was probably best if Tetsurou let the silences pan out, no matter how instinctual it was for him to chime in with a quick assurance.

“I think you’re supposed to let the person you’re with worry about you. But it’s irritating, and it annoys me that you get worked up over my issues.”

Well, that was not exactly the conversation thread he expected them to travel down tonight.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’ve always been like this.”

Kenma hunched over more, resting his chin against his legs. The admission sounded raw, like it was something Kenma had replayed in his mind a thousand times. He believed it, believed that the way his brain operated was a problem. That was more than a little heartbreaking.

Tetsurou’s jaw set, and he tried to pull words from his scattered brain. Given that there were approximately fifty different things he wanted to tell or console Kenma with, it was a challenge to narrow his focus. But one idea kept cropping up, and simple as it was, it made the most sense.

“But doesn’t that just mean you’re doing it too?” he pointed out, gesturing a hand. “That you’re worrying about me?”

Kenma blinked at him from over the vantage of his folded arms.

“I guess,” he said quietly.

Tetsurou felt the smallest bit of confidence kindle in him at those words. He leaned closer on the couch and poked his sulking boyfriend in the forehead.

“If you want to be annoyed that I worry about you, that’s fine. But you’re setting a double standard. I’m not worried because I don’t think you can handle yourself. I assume you don’t think I’m helpless either.”

Kenma grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“And for the record, I can’t help it. I overthink a lot of things.” Tetsurou shot him a tentative smile.

“You underthink a lot of things too.”

How uncalled for. Tetsurou’s smile twitched at the corner, but he decided to absorb the sting of the comeback. Having Kenma bite back was far preferable to having him retreat inward and shut down. If he had the energy to make a barbed comment, it was energy that wasn’t being devoted to his anxiety.

“Maybe, but I’ve survived this long. A year longer than you at any rate, so I’d like to think I’ve gained some wisdom.”

“So I’m supposed to let you be this way.”

“You could always offer to help with the second round of laundry.” Tetsurou’s smile broadened, and he adjusted again, brushing his hand through the hair framing Kenma’s face. Halfway down his cheek, the strands melted from jet black into a faded blonde.

“I’ll pass.”

Still, that rejection didn’t extend to everything.

Unfolding his hunched over body, Kenma leaned into the couch cushions, putting himself within easy reach. He stared at Tetsurou with his sometimes sharp, always beautiful gold eyes.

Accepting the unspoken invitation, Tetsurou slid his arms around him and pulled him closer. As he felt Kenma settle into his embrace, all lingering tension evaporated and was replaced with the bubbly feeling of contentment. The only jitters he felt now were from excitement, because being invited to snuggle Kenma to his heart’s content was a rare gift.

Tipping back, Tetsurou laid them down on the couch. Kenma shifted, laying his head on Tetsurou’s chest. He had no doubt that Kenma heard his heartbeat pounding away against his ear. It was calmer now than it had been, but still quick.

“By the way,” Tetsurou began, running a finger over Kenma’s shoulder, “have I ever told you that you’re amazing?”

Kenma snorted against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Maybe.”

“Because I love your brain just the way it is.”

Kenma’s hand twitched against his pectoral, and Tetsurou waited. Slowly, Kenma’s hand relaxed, and he lifted his head to link their gazes. His expression was unreadable, but through his eyes, Tetsurou could see the gears in his mind turning, considering something deep. 

But what that something was, he would never find out. Kenma resumed his former position, face hidden. His hand gripped at Tetsurou’s shirt, and he curled closer.

For Tetsurou, that was positive enough. Kenma’s self-image wasn’t something he expected to bolster with words of encouragement alone. He wasn’t that powerful. When it came down to it, Kenma was the only one who could decide if he was willing to change the way he viewed himself. All Tetsurou could do was play a supporting role. As Kenma did with him.

Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift.

He was truly lucky.

Given his work, and certain aspects of his own personality, Tetsurou had wondered if he’d ever settle down with someone. It was hard enough trying to date with his schedule and with never being able to be honest about his life and backstory. Other agents had given up, settling for casual flings if they weren’t fortunate to have met someone before they got into the business. He hadn’t tried to date for ages, but then he met Kenma through work. Part of Kenma, anyway.

Deep down, Tetsurou had sensed that he was something worth waiting for. There had never been any guarantee that they’d see each other, or that it’d succeed, but he’d waited anyway. For a long time, Tetsurou had told himself that his infatuation was silly. How could someone fall in love with just a voice, with conversation? But he had.

His only regret was that they hadn’t met when they were younger. Life would have been brighter in a number of ways if he’d grown up with Kenma.

For one, he wouldn’t have been the eternal third wheel in his friend group. From middle school onward, long before confessions happened, Bokuto and Akaashi had shared a dynamic that he couldn’t be a part of. It had been no surprise to Tetsurou when they started dating. Frankly, he’d been relieved, because the unresolved romantic tension at that point had made any outing with his friends an exercise in patience.

He didn’t begrudge them their happiness, never had, but it was nice to have found some for himself now.

No matter how first impressions went at the dinner, Tetsurou felt certain that things would work out. There was no chance his friends would miss the way Kenma made him feel. He knew he was obvious, and short of shouting from the rooftops, introducing Kenma to his inner circle was the best way he could display his love.

In just a few days, Tetsurou’s two lives, civilian and spy, were set to blend.

On that score, he was worry-free.

**. . . . .**

“Yamaka Mika. 27 years old, attended pre-med courses at TU, but dropped out. Currently employed as an acquisitions expert at her fiancé’s antiquities business. Engaged to Daishou Suguru, who was sentenced to fifteen years as of-”

At the head of the situation room, Yaku lifted a stack of papers up a few inches from his face.

“Eight months ago, plus the three it took for the trial,” Tetsurou cut in.

His boss stared over top of the report, lips pinching together. Public speaking set Yaku on edge, and he hated these briefings, despite possessing a certain aura that influenced people to listen. Then again, being suited to a task didn’t automatically make it palatable. Flipping over to a new page, Yaku resumed outlining the case, stifling whatever curt remark he wanted to lob at Tetsurou for interrupting him.

Tetsurou leaned back in his chair, the bottom creaking in protest as he pushed the limits of its ability to recline. On the slate-colored table in front of him, his notepad was dotted with bulleted questions and theories. He’d multitasked that morning, brainstorming motives for Mika’s foray into crime as he ran laps around Nekoma Agency’s indoor track.

Closing his eyes, he filtered out everything else but Yaku’s words. He only half-listened; the details of this case were ones that Tetsurou knew backward and forward.

Above all, the burglaries didn’t make sense.

Mika’s first infraction had occurred mere hours after Daishou’s arrest. Not even a full day later, so if it was about avenging him in some way, then she might as well be clairvoyant. Daishou had escaped legal consequences numerous times in trial, so why pick that occasion to lash out? She couldn’t have known that this arrest was going to stick.

Tetsurou raised a hand, massaging the inner corners of his shuttered eyes.

She had cheated him out of his precious month-long vacation and at least ten percent of the personal satisfaction he’d felt at besting Daishou. Not to mention he’d had to go into work instead of spending the entire night with Kenma after they’d finally confessed to each other. That had stung.

A lick of heat stirred in Tetsurou’s gut as he recalled the main event.

Getting together with Kenma had been overwhelming in the best sense, and even the few hiccups leading up to that moment didn’t change how he viewed the night. And it didn’t change the fact that since then, their relationship had flowed smoother than Tetsurou had hoped. Or expected, back when he was still pining over the voice of a man he’d never met in person.

Maybe if he closed the book on this case, Yakkun would give him a raincheck on the time off. But based on the timeline so far, his long-desired vacation would fall in the midst of Tokyo’s sweltering summer.

Sighing, he braced against the chair and it echoed another protest.

Tetsurou had taken Mika for a sweet girl on the occasions he’d seen her in court. Her being coupled up with Daishou always felt like a gross mismatch to him, but he had obviously misjudged her. Over the past year, she had taken charge of Nohebi Group’s assets and staged a string of burglaries throughout Japan. Mika was proving equally as slippery as her serpentine mate, and wiser. Where Daishou relied on chaos, planning was her strength.

Apart from the first burglary, she had remained in the background, sending subordinates out to tackle the dirty work. Maybe she had realized that her plausible deniability was at stake if she took a more active leadership role.

If making money was her aim, then she was succeeding. Nohebi Group had pulled off thefts totaling six million dollars since her rise to power. The heists were smaller, but they had been busy, and they had been everywhere. Tetsurou had traveled more in the past months than he ever had in his first two decades of life. And yet, they still hadn’t nabbed her. Not even an arrest that lead to an acquittal in court.

He wondered what Mika’s endgame was.

It was hard to read her. Tetsurou usually considered himself great at sizing people up, and he didn’t want to believe he had misread her before. On paper, she was clean before this latest endeavor. No prior arrests, no scandals, no parking tickets. She was a college dropout, but that wasn’t a crime.

People’s lives changed, and not everyone needed or wanted a degree. So, to him, this seemed like an exceptionally steep learning curve for her.

Or had Daishou shared more about his work with her than anyone figured? In true crime lord fashion, he had appeared to purposefully keep his lover unaware of the details of his schemes. Mika had been questioned upon each of his arrests. She had always been cleared, and had stood by him regardless of the circumstances.

“Based on intel, we believe her next target is Amakura Castle.”

Tetsurou’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, he wracked his brain, but came up blank. New intel?

His chair whined as he righted himself and leaned over his notepad, jotting “Amakura” as a reminder. Then he flicked his gaze back to Yaku, who was scanning the report again.

“Where’s Amakura?” a junior agent asked.

Yaku turned and pressed a button on the remote controlling the projector. A map appeared on the far wall, displaying heavily wooded terrain with only two settlements – a castle at the highest elevation, and a ranger station five miles east.

“It’s remote,” Yaku said, “but popular with the upper class for holding private events. Weddings, mostly, and a few charity events. The kind you have to be invited to.”

Tetsurou chimed in.

“I take it I’m on the list then? I’m a great party guest,” he said, grinning.

Further down the table, he heard one of his subordinates groan. Tetsurou glanced in that direction but the men’s faces showed identical reflections of innocence. A flicker of indignation sparked in his chest. What? It wasn’t his fault that so few people these days were as enthralled by science as he was. Chemistry was his main sphere of interest, but biology followed close behind. He had other things he could converse about if the audience was wrong; he wasn’t some one-note blabbermouth.

Yaku frowned.

“You’d usually have to have a net worth above ten million, but yes, we’re on the list.” Brown eyes narrowed in contemplation. “I doubt we’re the only invitees who don’t belong there.”

He leaned his compact form on the table, papers splaying out over the surface. Yaku glanced around, his posture tense from something that didn’t feel like his usual unease with being the center of attention. In that moment, he looked irritated. Yaku’s fingers pressed into the slate hard, the tips of them paling as blood surged away.

Tetsurou sat forward.

“Another crime syndicate?” he guessed.

Yaku shook his head. “Worse.”

Knowing his boss as he had for years, Tetsurou could think of just one answer that would grind his gears more. He whistled lowly. For his own sake, he hoped Yaku’s suspicions were unfounded. While he held no grudge against Mika, apart from the lost vacation, she was linked to Daishou. And that was one case that Tetsurou burned to close. Over time, wanting to shut that thieving snake down had become increasingly personal to him.

“We’re not the only agency investigating.”

The air in the situation room bristled with mounting tension as the idea sank in. Around Tetsurou, he could feel the hum of his subordinates’ brains kicking into overdrive, weighing their own theories.

Nekoma Agency wasn’t the only fish in the intelligence sea. Doubling down on missions happened, regularly. Sometimes clients or police departments asked multiple agencies for help to cut down on potential corruption, or to cover their bases. Each agency tended to have their own special knack, and if a culprit was particularly difficult to ensnare, it was helpful to have different brains working on the problem. This was just a fact of the business they worked in, and it made sense from an objective view.

But in reality, it was still competition. Whether for bonuses, glory, or other reasons, when agencies competed, situations grew hairier. Possibly even more dangerous, if one agency was looking to undercut the other in order to nail the culprit. Too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that. For some, like Yaku, the fact that they didn’t have this case to themselves was a wound to his pride.

“It’s been close to a year,” Yaku huffed, releasing some of the pressure on his fingers. “The police aren’t happy that she hasn’t been arrested yet. The people who bankroll the police are worried about their own possessions being stolen.”

Tetsurou sighed with him.

Mika evading them so many times bothered him too, though he wasn’t overly frustrated. He’d never been afraid of hard work. When a case took a while to resolve, it didn’t make him lose steam. If anything, it cemented his determination. But the idea of someone else stepping in on what he considered _his_ case was downright annoying.

“Do we know which agency?”

“It’s confidential,” Yaku said, rolling his eyes. By the answer, Tetsurou could imagine he’d grilled the police liaison for details and come up with none.

He sat back in his chair. Well, that development was disconcerting. But if a new agency joining the case had leaked as far as Yaku knowing about it, then it was already too late. All they could do as a team now was close ranks and try to catch the culprit first.

“How do we know her target is in Amakura?” someone asked.

Clicking another button on the projector remote, Yaku changed the display to a side-by-side comparison. On one half was a mugshot, and the other showed a candid shot of the criminal exiting a car. The second photo was grainy, but it was possible to tell they were the same person.

“Kuguri. We’ve been tracking his movements. He’s on the guest list for the charity auction in Amakura.”

Tetsurou eyed the photo.

Kuguri was a long-time associate of Daishou’s. Tetsurou remembered Kuguri as being in charge of the hired muscle, delegating which warm bodies were sent where. Ten months before the raid where they nabbed Daishou, one of Tetsurou’s subordinates had arrested Kuguri. Being the head henchman meant he possessed a certain intelligence, and so he’d known how to minimize his charges. By the time Daishou was locked up, Kuguri was free on parole.

Just in time to help out when Nohebi needed him.

Tetsurou's gaze fixed on the projector for the next few minutes, absorbing every detail they knew so far about Amakura Castle. In the back of his head, he tried to pin down motivations. That was the missing piece, the thing he could use to trip Mika up and arrest her. He knew it in his bones. She was too careful to get caught because of a mistake in planning. If anything was going to throw her off balance, it would be Tetsurou figuring out what she wanted, and using that to set a trap for her.

It was an underhanded strategy, but when he was dealing with snakes, he didn't sweat a little ruthlessness. 

They'd do the same to him.

**. . . . .**

Lately, whenever Tetsurou felt stuck on leads, he found himself sneaking into Kenma's office.

If you asked him, he had every right to be there. Not taking into account their relationship, Kenma was his handler. The only reason they hadn't met in person before they did was because Kenma had asked for special permission to stay in the background when working with agents. It wasn't as if Tetsurou was forbidden to know who was watching his back, or even to visit with him. But Yaku had put his foot down a few months ago, thus, the sneaking around.

Apparently, it was unprofessional to have intimate relations in the workplace. Yaku's words.

Tetsurou considered himself incredibly professional, and he had argued that. He knew how to take the appropriate precautions. It wasn't like they ever left the door open. It being unlocked had been a one-time, unfortunate oversight. Alas, Yaku had not wavered. But luckily for him, Yaku was too busy to always keep tabs on where he was in the building. Leaving the way clear for Tetsurou to climb the back stairs and walk directly into Kenma's office without incident.

When Tetsurou entered the room, the light was dimmed, the main glow coming from the corner of the room where the desk stood. To his surprise, given it was lunch hour, Kenma was sitting at his desk, and not laying down with his game console. That there was no lunch in sight wasn't shocking, but it prompted Tetsurou to make a mental note to bring the precut vegetables he'd packed today here later. Kenma was notoriously bad at remembering to eat regular meals, and worse at selecting health-conscious options. 

Other than a cursory glance to see who was at the door, Kenma appeared glued to his laptop screen.

"Hey."

Still not lifting his head away from whatever he was reading, Kenma made a noncommittal noise.

"We just finished the briefing. I thought I'd come run some details by you, if that's okay?"

Keys clacked as Kenma began to type something.

"You're not supposed to be up here," he quipped in a flat voice.

"Do you mind?" Tetsurou asked. If Kenma was too engrossed in a project to spare time for him, then he'd leave.

"It's quieter if you aren't here."

Well, if that wasn't a gem of shining honesty. Kenma never minced words.

Tetsurou's lips twitched with amusement, but rather than being offended by the brutal answer, he let go and laughed. It didn't sound like a rejection, if he translated right. Turning around, he clicked the door lock into place then moved deeper into the office. 

It wasn't that he had any salacious intentions, like seducing Kenma, but it never hurt to be prepared. There was no telling what might transpire in a nice, spontaneous moment of privacy. It also never hurt to avoid getting on his boss' bad side when he was already pissed off. Yaku hadn't been pleased about the news of a second agency joining their case, and Tetsurou didn't plan on being a target for him to vent his frustrations on.

"So, you're not going to tell on me for breaking the rules?" he teased.

The chorus of clicks increased in cadence, and a frown downturned Kenma's full lower lip.

"Have I ever cared that much about rules?"

Tetsurou tilted his head in a split-second of consideration. "Not that I recall."

"There you go." The answer lacked even a bit of enthusiasm.

Rounding the desk, Tetsurou stared down at the surface. He took in the scattered documents, file folders, and pens. As per usual, Kenma's workspace looked like a hurricane had blown through. His hands twitched to organize the chaos.

Fingering the edge of one folder, he opened it wide enough to peer inside. Interest soon lit Tetsurou's dark brown gaze. It was an incident report for one of the latest jewel thefts Nohebi had committed. On the top page was a photograph of a necklace. The center stone was a red sapphire the size of a small egg, surrounded by sharp-edged diamonds, with a golden chain. Below it was a written description, headed up by its name: the Roestenburg pendant.

He scanned the description and flipped through a few of the other pages inside the Roestenburg folder. The larger details were familiar; he'd investigated this case himself, on a trip to Kyushu. But the report was filed out of order, and the jewel's page had been on top. Which, contrary to Kenma's dysfunctional relationship with keeping the room clean, had to be intentional. 

Tetsurou flicked his gaze back to Kenma.

The concentration on his face, and the slight frown clued him in that Kenma was preoccupied. He'd ask him in a few minutes, then.

Once he was done with the first folder, Tetsurou set it aside, beginning a new pile. While his other half was distracted, he planned on doing a little restructuring. If there was one thing that was petty, but annoyed him to no end, it was clutter. The haphazard state of the desk now had to be remedied. Preferably before Kenma realized he was cleaning up after him, because he'd call him out on it. 

At the same time, Tetsurou wanted to check if there was a pattern to the files.

In a methodical fashion, he combed through numerous folders, noting the order of the pages and checking for any folded paper corners. Each seemed to be an incident report, and like the first one, the stacks began with descriptions of the stolen jewelry pieces. Nothing in particular was earmarked, or highlighted, but the repetition in how they were kept was enough of a lead. It could be for simplicity, for keeping track of what had been stolen, but that was hardly new information. Something had to have jumped out at Kenma.

When he was done reading one, he stacked it with the pile off to the side. 

Time slogged on, and Tetsurou grew so engrossed with reading and posing questions in his brain that he blinked when he checked the clock next. Had it really been that long?

On the positive side, the desk was cleared out. On the nebulous side, he was itching to talk things over, and wasn't sure if he could interrupt yet.

Tetsurou leaned his body against the desk, sitting on the edge of it facing Kenma. His long, lean legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, and his hands perched on top of the recycled glass surface.

"Is there a reason you're interested in what jewels were stolen, specifically?"

"I'm cross referencing them," Kenma answered. "They all belong to collectors. I want to see who."

Tapping one finger on the glass, Tetsurou traveled down that line of logic. As far back as he could remember, that was true. There had never been any thefts related to museums, or charities. One or two art galleries had been burglarized, but those jewelry pieces had been on loan from private citizens. Was Nohebi surprisingly humanitarian in their choices?

"Do you think that's something they're doing intentionally?"

Kenma frowned at something on his laptop screen. Extending one arm out, he lifted his hand. "Give me the Roestenburg file."

Without moving from his perch, Tetsurou bent and reached over to the pile, sliding the correct folder out from the bottom. He passed it over to Kenma, who didn't waste time on looking away. Something must have really been burning a hole in his mind, Tetsurou noted. He didn't feel offended, though. If one of them was having some sort of breakthrough on the case, that was all he could ask for. The sooner Mika and her associates were stopped, the sooner the two of them could potentially have a real vacation.

Flicking through the pages, Kenma found the one he wanted and scanned it at a blistering speed. Then he tossed the whole folder back on the desk and returned to his clicking and screen-gazing. Tetsurou eyed the folder. Several papers were poking out now, uneven and splayed across the desk. He bit his lip, and carefully righted them before returning the folder to its proper location.

"Well?" Tetsurou prompted.

"The Roestenburg piece is owned by the Tomada estate. He's dead. Three of the earlier thefts by Daishou were pieces he owned."

His brow rose at Kenma's explanation. Potential connections blitzed through his brain, making him feel just as pensive as his partner looked. 

"When did he die, exactly?"

"Three months after the first theft. Heart attack."

"So, nothing suspicious then," he sighed. "Nothing connected to Daishou."

A foot away, Kenma shook his head.

"Read this," he said, tapping a finger against the laptop display. 

Tetsurou hopped off the desk and moved closer, peering over Kenma's shoulder as he read the autopsy report. As he combed the exam notes from each of the various anatomical regions, a frown deepened on his lips. The more he thought about it, the more he forgot himself and leaned heavily on the chair and by extension, Kenma. By the time he realized he was zoning out, Tetsurou was hunched completely forward, practically draping his upper body over Kenma's shoulders. Lifting himself back to a standing height, he cleared his throat.

"Sorry about that."

"What do you think?" Kenma brushed off the apology.

"Well, it's weird," Tetsurou answered, crossing his arms across his chest as he gathered his thoughts. "For a guy in his sixties, he seems healthy. His arteries are clear, no atherosclerosis, no occlusions. Muscle tone is appropriate, and there are no obvious defects in the septum or valves. And that's just his heart."

Kenma's gaze flicked onto him for perhaps the first time since Tetsurou entered his office. "Translation?"

"Heart attack seems like a misprint. Maybe something else uneventful killed him, but it isn't that. They have no evidence to support it. So I wonder why they wouldn't put natural causes. But I'm not a pathologist."

"No, but you're into this kind of stuff," Kenma said. He paused, then added, "I thought it seemed off too."

Unbidden, Tetsurou's pulse kicked up a notch.

It was silly, just a small thing really, but he liked the times they were on the same page with work. Kenma and he had their individual strengths, but once in a while, they felt perfectly in sync. He could remember earlier on in their working relationship, back when they were on a voice-only basis, the first time they'd clicked like that. Tetsurou had been so pleased that he'd felt ten times stronger when arresting his target. Nothing would have defeated him that day.

Heat crept into his face.

"Guess I'm just a good influence," he joked to play off the way his chest was threatening to seize. "Though I had no idea you took my anatomy lessons to heart, Kenma."

In the next moment, he was pierced through by unwavering eye contact. Tetsurou's heart hammered against his ribs, and against his will, his temperature elevated further. By now, he had no doubt that his face was completely flushed. But the look in Kenma's eyes was the culprit. He was studying him intensely, as if gauging how he might like to ruin him.

"They're interesting, sometimes," Kenma admitted, tone low. "I prefer it when they're hands on."

Kenma's eyes raked down Tetsurou's lanky frame, stopping level with his legs. Almost as a reflex, Tetsurou shifted, aware that today's running gear covered very little. The shorts he was wearing stopped above mid-thigh. In the near past, that would have been too short, because Kenma had a penchant for leaving marks there. He had a feeling that come tomorrow, he'd have to break out something longer.

"I thought you were working," he countered weakly, more out of responsibility than desire to stop whatever what was building between them.

"I'm at a stopping point."

Well, then.

Tetsurou tilted his hips forward, and curiosity started to make his brain hum. He wondered what Kenma had in mind. There wasn't much that his boyfriend wanted that Tetsurou wasn't willing to give. All that mattered to him was getting to be with Kenma in the first place. How it happened, where it happened, or why it happened were insignificant details when the end result was so great.

"I assume you have an idea," Tetsurou stated.

Kenma moved closer, still seated in his desk chair. His eyes roved over Tetsurou's hips and bare legs again. After a few tense seconds, Kenma elevated his gaze higher. When he did, Tetsurou's pulse jumped in response to the intensity of his stare. Whatever his plan was, enacting it was not likely to be easy on Tetsurou's heart, or other parts of him.

"I want to learn about here," Kenma said, pitching forward to lay a warm palm on the front of Tetsurou's thigh. "Silent study."

"Silent as in...?" Tetsurou trailed off, his voice going all breathy. It was embarrassing how much his heart was pounding in contrast to how little he'd been touched, but he didn't have the attention span to care right now.

"I'll touch, and you'll stay quiet. If you can." 

Oh.

Tetsurou swallowed, but his throat felt tight all of sudden in the best way. No risk, no reward was a phrase that entered his mind. Playing these sorts of games with Kenma was definitely rewarding. He wasn't sure what it said about him, but Tetsurou couldn't help the rush of blood that stirred in his groin when he considered the terms. Kenma exploring his body, toying with it however he desired, all while Tetsurou fought to keep his voice contained. It was a scenario they'd done more than once. Each time with him failing miserably.

The punishment wasn't so bad though. 

"After all, you aren't supposed to be here," Kenma finished, challenging him with a small smile.

“Okay,” Tetsurou breathed out.

He wasn’t sure he could comply the whole time, but he’d try his best to behave for Kenma.

The desk chair creaked as Kenma stood. He pushed it back, and then knelt before Tetsurou, eyes at work assessing his target. Tetsurou leaned his hips closer in expectation. He scanned their surroundings to give himself a moment to catch his breath. To focus. Quiet, he needed to be quiet. Or he’d lose the privilege of getting to touch Kenma in return. That was what he desired most right now, so he didn’t want to screw it up.

Tetsurou jumped when he felt Kenma’s hand stroke the inside of his thigh. Fingers skated higher, pressing into the firmness of his quadriceps and squeezing. Bracing himself back against the desk, he tried to control his pulse. Not looking at what Kenma was doing helped, but he could still _feel_ everything.

Warmth crept up his neck into his face. Kenma’s hands disappeared, and moments later reappeared. They caught on the waistband of Tetsurou’s shorts and began tugging them down.

“Alrea-” he began, but caught himself, biting his tongue to keep the word from escaping.

But Kenma’s pace was surprising. Normally, he dragged things out, spending endless time exploring and testing Tetsurou’s body when he took charge. He liked to watch Tetsurou unravel, cataloging his reactions to each touch, or kiss, or bite. That he was aiming for the goal so soon was different.

But not bad different.

“Careful,” Kenma warned, not missing the near slip.

Tetsurou’s clothing hit the floor, and he felt the cool air in the office wash over his bare lower half. Shivering, he leaned heavier into the desk. But he wouldn’t look at Kenma yet, wouldn’t give into temptation. It was way too early for him to lose the game they were playing.

Then something wet licked over his inner thigh. Tetsurou kept his mouth sealed, eyes shutting too as he felt Kenma’s mouth touch his skin, sucking teasingly. He repeated the motion, drawing a line of marks as he moved higher. Tetsurou had no doubt the skin had reddened from the suction, but the marks shouldn’t be too-

Kenma bit down, and Tetsurou’s hips jerked forward, only to be held in place by a firm hand.

“Settle down,” Kenma said, a laugh laced in his tone.

His nails dug into the soft skin of Tetsurou’s hip.

“I can’t learn if you move.”

Tetsurou’s pulse jittered in his veins. Blood surged south, filling his cock and making it hard. He released a shaky breath, and tried to obey. Kenma resumed, licking a stripe along the ridge of muscle at the front of his thigh. When he reached the top, he bit down again. Blissful pain bloomed at the site, and Tetsurou knew it would bruise. Kenma’s tongue swiped over the area, soothing it as the new mark throbbed.

“I’m familiar with this part, though.”

Something clenched in Tetsurou’s gut. His heart began to race, and it took all of his willpower not to move in that moment. His diligence was rewarded with a small, firm hand closing around the shaft of his cock and squeezing. The length swelled under Kenma’s possessive grip, and a silent moan died on Tetsurou’s lips. He quivered with impatience, but didn’t react.

The flush ruling his face began to sweep downward, painting his chest a light rose. Once more, he wondered how it was possible to feel so ready to explode so soon.

But he wanted nothing more. He wanted to touch Kenma, to feel out every part of him, kiss him until their breaths were both ragged, and then do it all over again. All responsibility or thoughts of working had left his mind completely.

Tetsurou clenched a fist as Kenma began to pump his cock, blowing hot air over the head. His grip tightened as he settled into an unforgiving pace, squeezing Tetsurou’s length every few pumps. Without warning, Kenma’s tongue brushed against him, licking over the slit of his cock and tasting the pearling fluid there. Kenma let out a note of amusement, and then repeated the act.

“Kuro,” he called in a husky, unfair tone that made Tetsurou squirm, “look at me.”

That both was and wasn’t what he wanted to do. But he didn’t have a choice. It was an order.

Steeling his entire soul, Tetsurou looked. His eyes roved over the tempting picture, his breaths coming in shakier waves as he took in each detail. Kenma’s hair, tucked away from his face, putting it on full display as he made slow licks against the slit of Tetsurou’s cock, stirring the sensitive opening. His beautiful, sharp eyes staring up at Tetsurou as he took him apart. His hand jerking him off at a pace that said he was testing Tetsurou’s ability to hold back. Kenma didn’t expect him to stay quiet.

Kenma dipped his head, fitting his lips around the head of Tetsurou’s cock. Eye contact was maintained as he sunk down, encasing Tetsurou in a wicked, warm heaven.

Tetsurou shuddered, and he bit down on his tongue once more, stifling the lustful noise that attempted to escape. The urge to thrust into Kenma’s throat tempted him, to feel the immense suction on all of his cock, and to watch Kenma’s eyes widen like they did when he was surprised. Part of him wanted that satisfaction, that power shift.

But more of him wanted exactly this, to be under Kenma’s control. To let him take care of every part of him.

Kenma sucked, hand stroking the length he couldn’t manage. Tetsurou watched his lips stretch around the girth of his cock, and the pink that filled his cheeks as he began to bob his head, taking more of the shaft in. Wet, squelching noises spread through the air, and Tetsurou heard his own breaths grow louder. His hands went white-knuckled as he gripped the edge of Kenma’s desk, putting all his strength into staying still.

He wanted more. He wanted everything Kenma wanted to give him. He wasn’t going to fail. He was going to be good.

Sweat trickled down his face, byproduct of his increasing temperature. His tongue felt numb from how much his teeth had abused it to muffle his sounds. Every nerve ending in his body pulsed with arousal, and Tetsurou could feel a familiar tension building low in his groin as Kenma continued to toy with him. There was no ignoring it. When he couldn’t move or cry out, there was nothing else to focus on but how close he was to spilling over.

"You seem desperate, Kuro."

Kenma’s voice held an intense amount of satisfaction. Realizing that elicited a shiver down Tetsurou’s spine. He watched Kenma stroke his cock slower, almost lazily, golden eyes assessing the myriad marks he had inked on Tetsurou’s thighs.

Tetsurou’s hips twitched in a phantom thrust. Friction from the hand moving against him hit him like a train, stealing his breath for a split second. He shuddered, biting back the whine that threatened to cascade out from his mouth.

Faint panic flashed through his head. Was he allowed to finish?

He wasn’t going to be able to comply if so. There was no way. Absolutely no way he could keep his mouth shut at that critical moment. But he couldn’t fail. Not when he was granting Kenma so much pleasure by playing along, and not when he desperately wanted to get his hands on Kenma when the restrictions were lifted.

Tetsurou jerked his head up, studying the ceiling as his heart pounded. His breath echoed in his ears, coming out in a stream of pants. Below, Kenma’s hand tightened around his shaft, making quick strokes from the bottom up. Tetsurou’s insides tightened, he panted louder, and then locked his jaw. His hips squirmed, and once he thrust again, he couldn’t stop, freely fucking into Kenma’s hand as he lost sight of the goal.

Then, with a thunderclap of shock, the unyielding pressure surrounding him evaporated. Tetsurou stilled, and gripped the desk edge with all his strength. More than ever, he wanted to scream.

His mind felt scattered, awash with pleasure and determination to do well, but was hazy from the same concepts. He couldn’t think straight. Everything had almost ended, and he would have let it, just for the release of finally having all those tumultuous feelings satisfied.

"Open the drawer to your left. Hand what's inside to me."

It took time for the order to register. Breathing out harshly, Tetsurou cleared his mind by a few degrees and obeyed. He pulled open the drawer. It was empty apart from a few random office supplies, and a single bottle that was glaringly out of place.

If he had been allowed to say anything, Tetsurou might have made a smart comment about Kenma having a bottle of lube in his desk. Apparently, _he_ wasn’t the only one that was willing to flout Yaku’s decision on them not spending time alone together in the office.

Then again, Kenma hadn’t stopped him today. Not from visiting initially, and not when things had taken a delightful left turn. So, he likely had never cared about the new rule to begin with. Knowing him like he did, Tetsurou felt that conclusion rang true.

Grabbing the bottle, he handed it down to Kenma.

“Stand up straight,” Kenma said, uncapping the lid. He poured strings of clear gel over his fingers, rubbing them together to heat it.

Tetsurou reluctantly let go of the desk, elevating himself to full height. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where he was allowed to put them. He wasn’t sure if he should try to lay them anywhere. Or if he would survive the next stage of this game without being able to grip onto something to release some of the tension he was holding in.

“Come closer.”

He obeyed, feeling the splay of Kenma’s breath over his cock again. Almost instinctively, Tetsurou’s fingers bent, forming sloppy fists. He tightened them, and despaired when it seemed to not be enough to steel his senses.

A noise that rode the line between gasp and more surged forth when he felt Kenma’s hand brush the sensitive skin between his sac and hole. Kenma didn’t spend much time there though, finger hooking against Tetsurou’s rim and pushing against the puckered entrance. The tip of the digit was warm, slick, and Tetsurou shivered, teeth pressing down on his lower lip to keep himself in check.

Kenma glanced up at him, and somehow the tableau was obscener than when he had his lips wrapped around Tetsurou’s cock. In that gaze was a stirring mix of seriousness, affection, and desire that Tetsurou wanted to give himself up to.

There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to see Kenma look the way he did now.

"Yes, or no? You can talk to answer."

Tetsurou’s heart stuttered in his chest at being asked. His answer was obvious, but the question was kind all the same. He was reminded for the umpteenth time just how much he could put his trust in Kenma. There was no one better.

"Yes," Tetsurou whined, shifting back to urge Kenma's finger deeper. He felt greedy, needing so much more. It was the hugest relief to get to say even one thing, but he couldn’t relax just yet. They were still playing.

He shut his mouth, anxious to comply fully.

“Good,” Kenma responded, and what looked like a smile twisted his lips before his expression smoothed out. “If you can hold out while I get you ready, then you win.”

Tetsurou nodded.

Just a little longer. If he could keep himself in check, then there would be no more restrictions.

Heat flared in his chest as he imagined Kenma sinking into him, both of them giving up the ghost and letting out their voices. Perhaps the only dislike he had for scenarios like today was that he lost out on getting to hear Kenma until the very end. But having Kenma's attention on him the entire time, focused solely on him, was hot. Tetsurou liked seeing his eyes dart over the length of his body, working out in his clever mind what he wanted to try. The rare smiles or laugh Kenma granted him when he performed well. All of it was incredibly rewarding.

He met Kenma's gaze, not trying to hide the way his lips curved into a fond arc.

For an extended pause, they watched each other, and Tetsurou knew that he'd managed to make his meaning clear, words or no words. Kenma regularly complained about similar expressions of his, but as they stared at each other now, there was no trace of annoyance on Kenma's face. If anything, he looked contemplative. But he said nothing.

Leaning in, Kenma pecked a kiss against his hip. Below, a slick finger circled the tight rim and wettened it before sliding easily inside. Tetsurou planted his feet against the floor to keep from shifting, and succeeded. His eyes fluttered as Kenma's finger moved deeper, displaying impressive dexterity as it located his prostate. He rubbed over the sensitive area, and a gut punch of pleasure knocked the air from Tetsurou's lungs. He gasped, and instinctively his hands flew to Kenma's shoulders, gripping on out of sheer desperation.

He didn't know if that was allowed, but he needed to hold onto something. To feel Kenma with his own hands.

The cotton of Kenma's t-shirt crumpled beneath Tetsurou's needy grip, and he sucked in a huge breath, trying to remedy the loss of oxygen. Lips moved against him, Kenma's tongue darting out to lick a stripe against his heated skin. Another digit entered him, the two driving into the same blissful spot with calculated shoves. Before he could recover from the strike, Kenma's fingers spread inside him, stretching him out. Repeatedly, Tetsurou felt himself being gapped and opened up further.

A third finger came almost before he was ready for it, and he choked down a moan as the three entered, thrusting quick and making him feel impossibly full. He knew he could take more. Would take more, but this was a beyond pleasant teaser.

Kenma's gaze flickered as he watched Tetsurou ride out the sensation, and a low note of satisfaction trailed out. He licked his lips.

"You're doing so good, Kuro."

The praise nearly upended Tetsurou's efforts, the approval hitting him in a spot where he was weak. He trembled, abusing his tongue to stifle the lyrical noise that threatened to spill out. He fixed his gaze on the man kneeling in front of him, and tried to remember what he was working towards. _Just a little longer_ , Tetsurou repeated, chanting the mantra in his head. He just had to behave for a little longer, and then Kenma was going to be all his. Or in some ways, the reverse. But either way he thought about it, he wanted what was coming.

He wasn't going to muck this up when they were in the final stages.

But air expelled harshly from him in the next moment. Kenma's fingers fucked into him, slick and knowing, driving into his prostate with demonic precision. At the same time, Kenma's head dipped, taking the head of Tetsurou's cock into his mouth.

If he had been trembling before, his entire body was shaking now, sweat beading at Tetsurou's temples as he tried to hold on. His hands pulled at Kenma's shirt, tugging at the fabric to distract himself from how hard he wanted to push him away. Tetsurou's hips squirmed as he was assaulted from both fronts, and tension mounted in his gut. He felt scattered, unsure if it was humanly possible to not lose now. Any time before today and he long since would have been defeated, caving in to release a chorus of moans, but he was so close. 

Kenma sucked along his throbbing length, and his fingers spread again, finding more give than before. Tetsurou quivered, his breath expelling in desperate pants. 

Just a little-

Then, everything dampened, sensation flatlining as Kenma retreated. Tetsurou's breath hitched, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or horrorstruck. He tilted his head, gazing at Kenma wildly. There was no question in his mind that he looked debauched, wide-eyed, and spent. His skin was glistening from the pure exertion of exercising his self-control, and he could feel his insides clench, unsatisfyingly meeting nothing but air. He was a mess. But he didn't care about any of the superficial stuff if it meant that this was done.

Only, when their eyes met, he saw something in Kenma's gaze that made him realize he wasn't alone in feeling pent up.

Kenma shook off the grip on his shoulders, and slowly rose to his feet. Straining higher, he looped his arms around Tetsurou's neck, kissing him. Tetsurou's heart thundered in approval. He wrapped his arms around Kenma, squeezing him with enough strength that his feet left the ground. Tetsurou melded their lips together, and sank into the embrace, noting with mounting fondness how long it took for Kenma to pull away for air. Again and again, they rekindled the act, neither caring that they were getting caught up in a different sort of pace.

Kenma issued a jagged breath, and leaned their foreheads together.

"I guess that's a win."

Tetsurou wasted no time on acknowledging the milestone. There were more important things on his mind.

"I love you," he said fervently, intensity making his voice drop a few octaves.

He felt like he had been waiting hours for the chance to say it. The first time he had admitted he was in love with Kenma, Tetsurou had felt similarly. As though the words had been building inside his heart like steam in a kettle, pressure rising over time until the truth burst forth from his lips with scalding, almost unbearable warmth. The funny thing was, despite how often he said it, his feelings had never cooled.

Kenma's face reddened, the pale skin taking on a dark, rose hue. He turned, burying his head against Tetsurou's shoulder. But he didn't reject the sentiment, and didn't roll his eyes or do anything else to lessen it. He just sighed, wriggling free from their hug.

"Come here," Kenma said, taking his hand and impatiently pulling Tetsurou over to the couch against one wall of his office. When they were there, he eliminated the connection.

Tetsurou's dark brown eyes combed over Kenma's face, anticipation licking at his insides. His eyes widened when Kenma set to work on his pants, unbuttoning them and tugging them off in a few fluid motions. 

"How do you want me?" he asked.

"Laying down," Kenma said at length. "I know you like to watch me."

Tetsurou laughed.

"Why yes, I do. You're incredibly hot when you're on top of me. In whatever way that happens to be," he said, smirking suggestively.

Kenma's face pinched.

"I hate you sometimes," he complained, shoving Tetsurou's chest.

Taking the hint, Tetsurou lowered himself to the couch, and settled in, arranging his body for perfect access whenever Kenma deigned to forgive his impertinence. His back melted into the soft cushions, and he appeased his excitement, running a hand down the firm plain of his abdominals until he found his cock.

It was half a miracle that he'd been able to hold back. But that luck probably had more to do with frequent training. And he didn't expect his endurance to last much longer.

Giving it a few loose strokes, he waited as Kenma removed the remainder of his clothes. Tetsurou freely catalogued the enticing picture of his lover's nude body as it was revealed. Kenma's cock curved upward, skin pink with burgeoning arousal. Above, a patch of jet hair stood stark against the lightness of the rest, trailing upward. It brought to mind the temptation Tetsurou felt when he spotted wisps peeking out from the waistband of Kenma's shorts. All-too-pleasant memories made his mouth water.

But then Kenma's hand on him, and his nearing presence pulled Tetsurou back to reality. Slotting his body between Tetsurou's thighs, Kenma propped himself overhead. Their eyes locked.

Instinct drove Tetsurou. He tilted his hips up, brushing their stiff cocks together. His hand rose and caressed Kenma's jaw.

"I'm not going to go slow," Kenma stated.

To that show of impatience, Tetsurou could only smile.

"Good. I'm over waiting too."

Kenma shifted, lining their bodies together down lower.

Tetsurou kept his hips elevated, and a longing-filled whine left his lips when he felt pressure against his loosened hole. In one smooth motion, Kenma's cock surged forward, and his body melted, opening up to accept the entire length. Tetsurou's hand quivered against Kenma's face. They choked on twin moans, and then Kenma was moving again, pumping into Tetsurou with rigid intensity. Each thrust felt full force, and Tetsurou's body hummed with satisfaction as he ground back.

Heat fanned over Tetsurou's face, and his heart pounded erratically against his breastbone.

He felt so full, so possessed, and his self-control was fading every time Kenma's cock hammered against his sweet spot. Grunting, he lifted his hips more, straining with the effort of holding up his weight. Kenma's hands dug hard into the cushions on either side of Tetsurou's head. Around them, the couch creaked in protest, and their combined moans filled the air, Tetsurou's bordering on wheezes.

There was no way, he thought in a daze, worrying at his lip with teeth at a particularly rough fuck into him.

Tetsurou's hands twitched, both of them combing into Kenma's hair where it had grown out black and fisting the strands. Desperately, he pulled him down, joining their lips. Kenma rewarded him with a bite, golden eyes staring fiercely into Tetsurou's as he pulled away. Tetsurou groaned, and he could feel his body sway as Kenma's hips drove into him again, cock spearing against his tender insides with no mercy. Their skin slapped together obscenely. Tetsurou's cock bobbed between them, painting their skin with strands of precum.

There was no way he could last.

A loud call expelled from Tetsurou, and suddenly, his entire body seized. Everything in his head whited out. His ass clamped down hard, every muscle sealing around Kenma's striving length within as he came apart.

"Kenma," he chanted on loop, voice rough and ragged as he breathed out those treasured syllables.

Above him, Kenma hissed, eyes fluttering and mouth slack. He rolled his hips, drilling into Tetsurou as if he couldn't stop. Even with the intense pressure, and despite Tetsurou's deepening calls, Kenma moved. His breaths morphed into panting, unfairly enticing moans dropping from his lips each time he bottomed out inside Tetsurou's heat. His hands lowered, gripping Tetsurou's hips and holding them steady at the angle he desired. With three more rapid thrusts, his cock pulsed, and spilled out inside Tetsurou, filling him to the brim with seed.

Then, as was probably reasonable, Kenma collapsed against him.

Tetsurou exhaled. He wrapped his arms around Kenma, holding him tight to his chest.

"I love you," Tetsurou told him, not caring if he sounded gross or repetitive. There was no limit on his feelings, and until the day Kenma tired of him saying it, he was going to keep expressing how he felt.

But, judging by the half-exhausted, mostly tolerant look on his boyfriend's face, that day was so far off that it might not even exist.

Kenma stared at him, eyes piercing directly into Tetsurou's soul.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this is going to be a monster of a fic, length-wise! Bear with me, because I promise I have some fun in store for you. My plan is to post Chapter 2 on Friday, 10/16 in celebration of Kenma's birthday. 
> 
> If you liked what you saw, consider leaving a kudos or a comment. Thanks for reading! ♥ - RT


	2. evolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very special day today, so naturally I had to post some kurokens. Hope you enjoy!

“For the last time, Kenma, don’t lag behind!”

Tetsurou considered himself to be a patient person. A fairly calm person too, which made him an excellent leader on the often-chaotic missions that he and his agents carried out. Sure, he had his anxieties in life like everyone else. But when people described him, the word they used was “dependable.” At least, most people.

But tonight, he felt neither patient nor calm. Lacking those key emotions gave his words an edge as he spun around and finished the scolding. He knew he wasn’t acting particularly reasonable either, but there was only so much space in his brain and the negative qualities were winning out. Even if he realized he was behaving badly, it didn’t change the fact that the words came out so easy.

Ten feet back, Kenma stopped, both hands hidden away in the pockets of his blood red cardigan. He glared.

“Slow down. Then I won’t be behind you.”

“I don’t want us to get lost again,” Tetsurou replied, exasperation lending more volume than necessary. “And by us, I mean you, and then I have to come find you.”

Kenma walked closer.

“I’m not good with directions. I don’t know where they live, and you’re walking too fast. If you don’t want me to get lost, stop making me guess where you’re headed or where you turned.”

Tetsurou hissed out a breath. One hand on his forehead, he shook it as if ready to lecture himself.

“I knew we should have driven. I would have been fine to drive!”

Staring up at him, Kenma arched an eyebrow.

“You’re right. You seem like you’d be safe behind the wheel with that attitude,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Then, the bitterness subsiding somewhat, he added, “You need to calm down, Kuro.”

The mellowness in Kenma’s eyes finally chipped away at the ball of stress that had been knotting itself in Tetsurou’s gut for over a week. As if snapping a whip, some of the tension left his temples and evaporated in his shoulders. He lowered his hand, and exhaled again, slower, until he felt his emotional state go completely neutral.

He didn’t want to argue with Kenma. Not even a single cell in his body felt angry.

His sour attitude stemmed from a combination of factors. Too much time to stew on his fears, too little sleep the night before, a very bad hair day, and now them running late. He wasn’t about to count spilling coffee on the shirt he’d planned to wear, but the incident felt incredibly unjust considering how big the pile of stressors on his mind was. Couldn’t the universe give him a break?

Tetsurou thought he’d already figured this dilemma out. Like Kenma himself had said a few nights ago, the stakes weren’t dire. It wasn’t ideal if his friends and Kenma didn’t hit it off, but he wasn’t going to lose any of them if that happened. There wasn’t any reason to freak out.

None.

Frowning, he opened his mouth to apologize. "I'm sorry for being so harsh."

Staring across the gap, Tetsurou waited. He made no move to elaborate - he may have been worked up, but it didn't give him a free pass to act like an asshole.

Kenma hesitated, considering his options. Hopefully one of those options was forgiveness, or this evening would be off to an even worse start than Tetsurou could have ever anticipated. But he knew well from the countless times he had ignored orders on missions or ticked off Kenma some other way that his boyfriend had zero difficulty holding grudges.

A jagged sigh spilled forth, and Tetsurou twitched with uncertainty. But then Kenma moved closer.

"I can't wait for this dinner to be over," Kenma griped. His hand shot forward, grabbing Tetsurou's. "Don't ask me to go out for a while."

Tetsurou's heart did a flip in his chest as he stared down, gazing at their linked hands. Sure, Kenma's grip was intense and could lead to decreased circulation. But it meant forgiveness, right? Had he really lucked out and been gifted the understanding version of Kenma tonight? Because it seemed like he was being given a second chance. If nothing else, Kenma's fingers wrapped around his gave his courage a substantial boost. Tetsurou squeezed back, his lips melting into a grateful smile.

"I won't."

He meant that.

If there was any bit of rational knowledge that had infiltrated Tetsurou's frazzled brain, it was that Kenma was putting himself out there, for him. Maybe Kenma was willing to do it, but meeting new people wasn't easy when you had massive social anxiety. As much as Tetsurou believed in Kenma's ability to accomplish whatever he set his mind to, that didn't change the reality. Kenma was choosing to do something he wanted, when there were more cons to the situation than pros for himself.

Tetsurou wasn't likely to forget a grand gesture like that anytime soon.

"We're close. Maybe two blocks," he said.

"Finally."

"Bear with me a little longer," Tetsurou teased, swinging their hands as he tugged them both forward.

The remainder of the walk was completed uneventfully, and before long, they were standing outside their destination. A tall white cement fence surrounded the property, cut in half by an imposing gate. Above their heads, a security camera was mounted.

Personally, he thought it was massive overkill to have such protections for civilians, but then Tetsurou considered Akaashi. Knowing his careful nature, it made perfect sense that he'd outfit his home like a fortress. Still, who was going to break in? It was a nice neighborhood, and the nearest police station was a two minute walk. But if that's the way Akaashi wanted to go, then he would keep his mouth shut.

Tetsurou leaned forward, pushing a button on the speaker built into the gate.

Moments later, static crackled over the intercom. Akaashi's clipped tone filled the air.

“Kuroo-san. I had expected you twenty minutes ago. Did something happen?”

Tetsurou couldn’t help his face sliding into a grimace.

He knew they were behind schedule, but rather than act like a gracious host, he had a sinking suspicion that Akaashi would remind him of that faux pas throughout the evening.

So, this was how it was going to go. Tetsurou should have known, and part of him had, that when they started running late, it would put them on a bad footing. Akaashi wasn't a stickler for punctuality, but he preferred things to happen in a predictable manner. Had the evening been flipped, with Bokuto and him visiting their apartment, there would have been no room for error. The route would have been mapped out ahead of time, with contingencies for all possible delays. Frankly, Akaashi’s level of planning had always been equal parts impressive and insane to him.

“Sorry,” he answered, affecting a light, affable tone. “We got distracted along the way.”

He felt Kenma’s eyes on him, but Tetsurou charged ahead.

“Want to let us in now?”

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

The line went silent, and Tetsurou lifted his chin, trying another measured breath to steady his pulse. Then he gave in to temptation and scanned Kenma from the corner of his eyes. As he had suspected, Kenma was watching him. His face appeared contemplative. Which was better off than how Tetsurou was feeling, so perhaps things weren’t that bad.

“Akaashi gets under your skin easily.”

“I think that’s mutual,” Tetsurou said, shrugging. “It’s not like I hate him. He’s just an acquired taste.”

“You knew Bokuto before him.”

“Yeah, he’s younger than us. Akaashi’s your age. But even then, he didn’t transfer to our middle school until Bo and I were third-years.”

Kenma hummed, seeming to store the information away. His gaze roved over the intercom system, and up toward the camera trained on the sidewalk. Tetsurou watched him study the different pieces. It was all old news to him, but he knew that it was fresh to Kenma. On top of that, Kenma’s hyper observant nature amplified things. He noticed much more than the average person did in half the time.

“Their security system is quality, for civilians,” Kenma said.

Tetsurou cocked his head.

“Really? Well, Akaashi’s family has money, so it’s probably normal for him. Between the three of us, Bo and I are definitely the ones from the wrong side of the tracks.”

Kenma didn’t laugh like he’d expected him to at the quip. Instead, Kenma pulled his mobile from his pocket, and snapped three quick pictures with the camera. Tetsurou’s eyebrows rose as high as the stratosphere.

“What are you doing?”

Replacing his phone to its original location, Kenma lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I want to do research,” he said.

Not the most convincing or characteristic of responses, at least for Kenma, but Tetsurou didn’t have time to delve deeper. Before he could do anything else, the gate swung open, revealing Akaashi.

It'd been a while since Tetsurou had last visited, but his friend wore the same trademark expression. Guarded, pensive, and cool. More than once, Tetsurou had entertained the idea that Akaashi would've made a perfect interrogator. Any extended period of time under that delightful stare would make him think about spilling his guts. It struck the right balance of intimidation and steel to inspire fear in suspects’ hearts, knowing that this was a guy who would never break first.

Or maybe that was solely his own opinion.

Akaashi turned to Kenma.

“The camera is an RKS-18 model. It captures audio as well as video.”

Kenma’s expression faltered almost imperceptibly, hand twitching inside the pocket he’d just put his phone back in. But he recovered without missing a beat.

“Good to know.”

Tetsurou stiffened. Why did it already feel like things were off to a rocky start?

“It’s nice to meet you at last, Kozume-san,” Akaashi said. “I have heard almost too many details about you over the past few years. Now I have a face to attach to those stories.”

“Nice to meet you, Akaashi.”

Attention diverting from their host, Kenma appraised him suspiciously. “The past _few_ years?”

Tetsurou threw his hands up in surrender.

“I might have told Bo about the cute I.T guy I met at work, before we got together. Guess he didn’t keep it to himself.”

Akaashi trained his muted green eyes on Tetsurou, further magnifying the intense spotlight he was under. Once more, Tetsurou was reminded of the harsh glow of an interrogation room, the foreboding in one’s gut before the person asking questions outlined how they’d make the subject talk. Only now, it was times two, and he had mere shreds of calm left to cling to after the walk here.

Maybe gathering everyone together tonight was a bad idea. In retrospect, Kenma and Akaashi had similar fear-inducing attitudes when they wanted to. In a double dose, when Tetsurou was facing it alone, it was a little terrifying.

“No. Bokuto-san tells me most things.” Turning back to Kenma, Akaashi’s thin lips twitched into what might have passed as a smile under a powerful magnifying glass. “Come in. It is rather cold outside.”

Grateful for the reprieve, Tetsurou didn’t waste time with more pleasantries. Steering Kenma with an iron grip on his shoulder, he pushed them through the gate and up the front flagstones. Akaashi trailed them, making sure the gate locked again behind everyone.

In moments, all three made it inside the house, and instantly, Tetsurou’s blood pressure dropped back to sustainable levels.

Heated air coated his exposed skin like a warm blanket, and the scents of food cooking made him simultaneously ravenous and curious. He smelled the obvious – grilled meat – but couldn’t put his finger on what the sweeter aroma belonged to. Either way, it smelled like it was going to taste delicious. And because it was Bokuto’s cooking, he knew it would be.

Akaashi led them through the foyer and toward the source of all the scents.

When they entered the kitchen-slash-dining-room, Bokuto was crouched in front of the oven, studying whatever was baking with a critical eye. Upon hearing them come in, he leapt to his feet.

“Hi Kuroo! Little late, aren’t you? Keiji was starting to pace in circles!” he said in one breath, crossing the glossy kitchen floor with equally brisk steps.

“I didn’t do that, Bokuto-san.”

“You did! You grabbed your tablet and were checking accident reports!” Bokuto protested, hands balanced on his hips. He peered at Akaashi as if trying to iron the truth onto his brain.

Akaashi’s eyes flashed, green darkening into near black.

“I was not pacing.”

Yet, the purse of his lips was unconvincing as he stated his innocence. Tetsurou was inclined not to believe him.

But given that Bokuto was the only one who ever emerged unscathed from a detonated Akaashi landmine, Tetsurou was anxious to move on from provoking said explosion. Still, Bokuto’s comment explained a little of the edge in Akaashi’s tone when he’d first spoken to Kenma and him on the intercom. He had been worried, not mad.

If that wasn’t heartening enough for Tetsurou to regain his courage, he didn’t know what was.

“Bo, this is Kenma,” he cut in, “my amazing boyfriend.” Ignoring the fact that he looked beyond doting, he laid a hand on Kenma's shoulder.

After years of singlehood, Tetsurou felt like he was entitled to be sappy. It was also an immutable fact of his nature. Kenma would kill him later if he went too far, but he’d enjoy floating on air for as long as dinner lasted. He fully planned on using this opportunity to show off just how great they were together, or how great Kenma was himself.

Bokuto smiled, and to Tetsurou’s slight unease, bounced forward until he stood mere inches from Kenma’s face, looming over him.

“Wow, you’re short, aren’t you, Kozume?”

Beneath Tetsurou’s hand, Kenma stiffened, almost like he wanted to take a step backward. Or a few feet. He looked at Bokuto’s over-expectant form blankly, as if he didn’t know what to do with him. His mouth remained sealed, thinking.

“Not short, average,” Tetsurou supplied. His hand slipped a few inches down, fingers stroking over Kenma’s back in reassuring waves. In this moment, he knew he needed to be a buffer. “Anyway, what kind of intro is that?”

Bokuto tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow elevating into an angular, white peak.

“I didn’t mean anything was wrong with it,” he said. “I’ve never met him before. I didn’t know he was short.”

“Average,” Tetsurou repeated. “You could just say hi, Bo.”

“Hey Kozume!” Bokuto chirped, surging closer.

Anticipating the movement, Tetsurou’s hand shifted, reclaiming its place when Kenma retreated several paces. Giving him a light pat on the shoulder, he then stepped forward, inserting himself as a wall between the two. They were both being themselves, so he couldn’t fault either, but to prevent the situation from getting out of hand, mediation was required.

“Now that’s bett-”

“Hi, Bokuto.”

Kenma’s voice was steady, the opposite of everything else about him up until then. Tetsurou blinked, and then checked over his shoulder. As he scanned Kenma’s face, he saw a sudden, calm resoluteness reflected. Part of it he was sure came from the persona Kenma utilized in their work, but part of it seemed genuine, like he had worked himself into a headspace where he was ready to roll with the punches tonight.

Without any hesitation, Tetsurou stopped blocking, and stood by his side again.

He wanted badly to react to this promising twist, to express his pride, but he also didn’t want to throw Kenma off his game.

“Kuro talks about you a lot.”

Bokuto grinned, as if that was an accomplishment worth gloating over.

“Of course he does! I’m pretty great after all. Right, Keiji?”

Following that bold statement, Tetsurou was sure that his and Akaashi’s faces displayed identical expressions. Still, whether out of love, or sheer diplomacy, Akaashi’s answer was different than the one he would have given.

“Certainly, Bokuto-san. But why don’t you dish us up before your food grows cold?”

**. . . . .**

Popping another bite of teriyaki beef in his mouth, Tetsurou hummed happily. There was a huge gulf in quality between takeout food and home-cooked food. Even the meals he tried to cook when he had time didn’t taste as delicious as what Bokuto could create. Half the reason he came over to his friends’ house was in the hope that they would feed him. Considering their voracious appetites, that was normally a safe bet.

As he savored the tang of the sauce, he felt his stress ebb away. Glancing around the table, Tetsurou’s heart swelled a little in his chest as he eyed the other three sitting nearby.

Maybe this was a great idea after all. Good food, better company, and a night spent not thinking about work. Sometimes he got so wrapped up in what he was doing that he forgot to relax. From now on, Tetsurou resolved, he was going to try harder to practice some balance.

A lofty goal to be sure, but he’d do his best to make it happen.

Being an agent made that more difficult. Maintaining relationships outside the agency was fraught with obstacles. When he had started dating Kenma, Tetsurou had weighed the idea of introducing him to Bokuto and Akaashi for a long time before deciding to take the plunge. Partly because he’d been nervous about moving too fast in their relationship, and partly because it would mean jumping through more hoops. For one, they’d had to develop a cover story as to how they got together, and what Kenma’s job and background were before they met.

Tetsurou had started working for Nekoma in his final year of university.

At that point, he’d passed off being away from campus so much as him taking on an internship at a lab outside of Tokyo. To his friends, he was a research assistant who’d moved up to a management role. Which helped explain why he didn’t know all the gritty details of the chemicals his team was supposedly developing. If he wasn’t in a hands-on role, he didn’t have to know. Vague stories were easier to maintain.

Though it wasn’t like he needed to talk at any length. Bokuto was the one who asked more about his day, and though Tetsurou loved him dearly, Bokuto wasn't gifted in understanding the mysterious inner workings of science. On a certain level, he was intrigued, like with fun facts, or how certain chemicals interacted, but the process didn’t thrill him. And that was just fine.

“So you know how to do all that hacker stuff, Kozume?”

Bokuto’s voice pitched with interest, and he leaned forward over the table as he waited for an answer.

Tetsurou was surprised with how well the conversation had stayed afloat, particularly between Bokuto and Kenma. He understood Bokuto’s side, as his natural curiosity was too strong to not want to ask a million questions when meeting someone. But they were different enough people, and Kenma was unsociable enough that he'd wondered if Bokuto would wear him into the ground. So far, that hadn’t happened.

He detected only the slightest hint of weariness in Kenma when he answered.

“Some.”

Bokuto’s gold eyes glimmered excitably.

“Wow! Have you ever done anything really crazy with it, like hack into a bank?”

“Bokuto-san, I’m sure that Kozume-san is not a criminal,” Akaashi interjected from over his mug of tea.

“I didn’t say that-”

“Hacking into a bank server would be quite illegal.”

Bokuto huffed.

“I guess, but it’s not like he would be stealing anything.”

His gaze darted from Akaashi’s face down to the strips of beef still left on his plate. Tetsurou stifled a snort as he practically heard the gears in Bokuto’s head turning, forming a plan. How it would work out for him remained to be seen.

“Are you gonna eat those, Keiji?”

Akaashi replaced his mug on the table, and slid his plate further away from Bokuto’s encroaching hand, out of reach. “I will. Some of us are not such fast eaters. If you want more, go refill your plate.”

“Aww, but I already did all the work!” Bokuto whined. “And you took the rarest bits of meat.”

“I didn’t hear you complain earlier,” Akaashi said. “But I will say that you did a fine job with everything. The marinade is perfect tonight.”

Bokuto’s pout evaporated. Puffing out his chest slightly, he leaned toward his husband, saying something that Tetsurou didn’t catch. A hand tugged at his sleeve, distracting him from his observations.

“Yes?”

Kenma glanced at him from the side. At first, he didn’t speak, prompting Tetsurou to jump in.

“How are you holding up?”

A barely-audible sigh left Kenma’s lips, and he arranged his face into a torn expression. Tetsurou could spot a hint of exhaustion, some uncertainty, but none of it looked dire. He combed over Kenma some more, noting his hunched shoulders and stiff posture.

“I’m fine.”

Tetsurou tilted his head questioningly.

“It’s better than I thought. But-”

Kenma leaned in closer, lowering his volume. Tetsurou’s eyes flicked toward the other side of the table to check that Bokuto was still monopolizing Akaashi’s attention. To no surprise, they were still locked in conversation. If you could call Akaashi nodding and sliding a word or two of affirmation in edgewise to Bokuto’s chatter conversation. But for them, that passed most days.

“But you might want to leave early?” Tetsurou guessed, turning more toward him to further decrease the chance that their exchange would be overheard.

“Maybe.” Kenma frowned. His lips twitched with indecision, and he slid a hand in the pocket of his sweater, probably reaching for his phone.

Tetsurou waited.

A few breaths later, Kenma finished his reply.

“It hasn’t been that long. I’d feel bad. I know you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, studying another corner of the room and avoiding Tetsurou’s watchful gaze.

“Kenma. I’m not going to have fun if I know you aren’t.”

“It’s not that I’m not. I am. Sort of.”

Tetsurou sighed, the sound terse. Not because he was frustrated with Kenma. If anything, he was frustrated with himself because he wished the right words would come without him having to pause and deliberate on them. It was tough to know if he was being too understanding. Was it helpful, or harmful?

“I know,” he said. “I know this is a lot. I really appreciate you trying in the first place.”

Kenma shook his head.

“Don’t. I want to. Not... just for you… but,” he paused, “I want to try. To get better with this stuff.”

A lump formed in Tetsurou’s throat. His heart clenched too, but the most prevalent thing he felt as he listened was proud.

Maybe it was premature to have that reaction, but he didn’t care.

It was hard not to be proud when he knew intimately that this was major progress. Evolution only really worked when a person was willing to take that step. There wasn’t a single thing he would change about Kenma’s core persona. But if Kenma could get to a point where he felt comfortable anywhere, that was a change Tetsurou supported.

“Your friends are okay,” Kenma said. “I think I could manage. Eventually.”

Leaning closer, Tetsurou placed a kiss on the side of Kenma’s hair. At the light pressure, Kenma shifted, and Tetsurou caught a glimpse of his face before it turned away again. It was red.

“Glad to hear it.”

Then he faced forward again, his mind made up on how to handle the situation.

“Bo, can you come with me for a second?”

Bokuto perked up, caught at a lull in whatever story he had been regaling Akaashi with. He looked at Tetsurou, one white eyebrow quirked in curiosity. But he didn’t ask for an immediate explanation, instead getting to his feet. As Tetsurou led him from the dining room, he heard Akaashi start to talk to Kenma.

“So, how long did it take for Kuroo-san to work up the nerve?”

The insinuation in Akaashi’s dry tone almost made him double back to defend his romantic prowess, but then Tetsurou remembered that he had more important matters to attend to.

Besides, if he tried to defend himself every time Akaashi questioned his honor, he’d be fighting a losing battle. The two of them had waged a cold war of sorts ever since they had met. At this point Tetsurou was kind of fond of bantering nonstop with him. He wasn’t sure how he’d act around Akaashi if their relations thawed. It was obvious to him at least that neither of them harbored actual ill will toward each other.

It was just a different way of interacting.

A minute later, Bokuto and he made it outside onto the patio. Tetsurou leaned against the railing that separated it from the yard, and Bokuto joined him, standing close enough to brush shoulders. Cool air ruffled at their clothing, and Tetsurou was faintly glad he’d opted for a thicker sweater tonight. It had been his second choice after the ruined first shirt, but it was working to his advantage now.

“What’s up, Kuroo?”

Tetsurou pursed his lips, thinking. With Bokuto, straightforward talk was usually best. He just didn’t want what he was about to say to come off wrong, like he was scolding him.

“Do you remember how I told you Kenma gets anxiety?”

His friend looked at him, face screwed up in concentration. “I think so,” Bokuto answered. “Like with people, and stuff?”

“Yes. That.”

A stray breeze blew through, mussing Tetsurou’s hair. He smoothed a hand through it and turned more towards Bokuto.

“I think we might leave in a little while. He’s nearing his limit. I just wanted to tell you so you won’t be surprised. I don’t want it to seem sudden, so could you help me out by not making it weird?”

Beside him, Bokuto blinked, golden eyes narrowing then as he seemed to think about something particularly hard.

Tetsurou waited, hoping that whatever tangent Bokuto’s brain was exploring was not centered around him feeling to blame. That was why he was trying to make this as neutral of a conversation as possible. Just them, alone, talking plain to each other and making it work. They were a good team, always had been. Of all the people in his life, Bokuto had been present there the longest. A level of trust existed between them that was unbreakable. He knew he could count on him.

“Is Kozume going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Kenma's fine, he just needs time to recharge. Like when you have a bad day and don’t want to talk to anyone for a while,” Tetsurou explained, gesturing with his hand. “For him, it’s like his batteries are drained after trying to interact with people for too long.”

Bokuto’s head tilted.

“I thought we were talking okay, though.”

“He doesn’t show it on the outside when he feels this way,” Tetsurou said. “You two are different like that.”

Bokuto lifted a hand to his mouth, pressing it against his lips in as he considered the info. As he waited for a response, Tetsurou wondered what Bokuto was thinking. It didn’t seem like he was taking the idea badly. More so, Bokuto seemed determined to understand what he was telling him. And maybe, just maybe, he was brainstorming some nice bit of wisdom to share with him.

Or perhaps not.

Bokuto laughed, dropping the hand back to his side.

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

“What’s so funny, buddy?”

An amused expression spread across Bokuto’s face, his eyes creasing tight and his lips stretching into a grin.

“Nothing. You just explain things a lot like Keiji sometimes.”

“Do not,” Tetsurou replied immediately, feeling heat stain his cheeks. Out of indignation, of course, because there was no way he’d agree or feel flattered to hear that. “I use numerous and infinitely more sensitive examples to explain. Akaashi’s way of explaining is – ‘Bokuto, go do this because I said so.’”

Maturely, Bokuto stuck out his tongue at him.

“I meant you’re both always thinking of how to make me get it best, Kuroo-o,” he sang, bumping his shoulder into Tetsurou’s with no small amount of force. Even a decade on from their sports days, Bokuto still owned the body of a star athlete with the destructive power that entailed.

Tetsurou bumped back, harder.

“I fail to see your logic, owlhead. Unless Akaashi is psychic and can transmit an explanation into your brain, then it’s not the same thing.”

“I don’t need him to talk a lot to get what he’s saying,” Bokuto said, simply.

Tetsurou froze.

His friend’s words rang in his head for a few blank moments. He considered them, both in the context they were given, and elsewhere. When they were younger, he had found Bokuto and Akaashi’s interactions mysterious. From where he stood, it had sometimes felt like they could communicate on a frequency no one else knew how to tap into. Tetsurou had chalked it up to them reading each other’s body language and guessing right a lot of the time. But now, he realized that wasn’t everything.

They knew each other. Guessing stopped being guessing when you were so familiar with another person. And he understood that bond.

Kenma wasn’t much of a talker. Never had been. But that didn’t stop Tetsurou from knowing what he felt at any given moment. Like a sixth sense, he knew instinctively when Kenma was trying to tell him something.

Tetsurou’s stomach flipped over.

He wasn’t sure whether he should find that ability weird or not. It was a little strange that they were on that level when they’d only dated a year as opposed to the decade his two best friends shared. But it was an interesting observation. Without the slightest clue he was doing it, Bokuto had imparted some wisdom after all. Typical.

“Hey, what if I get dessert? Then it'll seem like we’re wrapping things up, and Kozume won’t feel like he’s leaving early,” Bokuto suggested.

"Not a bad idea," Tetsurou replied. "What did you make, by the way? It smelled amazing when we showed up."

Bokuto smirked at the question.

"You're gonna think I'm a genius," he stated confidently, planting both hands on his hips and preening.

"Wow. By the humble tone you're striking up there, buddy, I can only imagine."

"I thought about it a long time. You said Kozume doesn't eat a lot, so I didn't know what to make that he'd be happy with," Bokuto began, some of the put-on bravado melting away into actual humbleness as he recounted the details. "Then I figured since he wasn't a big eater, I'd make dinner something the three of us would like, and kill it on dessert."

"Makes perfect sense," Tetsurou encouraged, leaning his weight back on the patio railing. "Everyone loves a sweet treat."

"I asked Keiji what I should make, but he was no help," Bokuto sighed, shaking his head twice as if to display his disappointment at Akaashi's lack of culinary creativity. "But then I remembered something!"

"Do tell."

Tetsurou crossed his arms over his chest, pinching his lips together so he wouldn't snicker and ruin the flow of the moment. It wasn't that he was laughing at Bokuto. Okay, perhaps he was, a little. But it wasn't out of malice. It was just that Bokuto was the most animated person he'd ever met when telling a relatively mundane story. It never ceased to amuse him.

"Apple pie! Kozume's favorite!"

His face smoothed out, mouth opening in slight astonishment. It had to have been months since he'd shared that tidbit, and in passing no less. Bokuto had a reputation of being an airhead, but every now and again, he proved himself to be more complex than that.

Tetsurou couldn't help but feel grateful from the bottom of his heart.

"Bokuto, my pal, you _are_ a genius."

**. . . . .**

Despite it taking less than hour to consume dessert and make their escape, it felt like an eternity until Tetsurou was walking home with Kenma. Who, upon realizing what dessert was, had gained a temporary second wind and tore through his slice of pie quicker than Tetsurou had ever seen him eat anything.

He’d call that a seal of approval.

Tetsurou's head was clear as they retraced their steps. Once they were a few blocks away from the house, he heaved a long-awaited sigh of relief. They paused to wait for the crosswalk light, and his final anxieties dissolved, his usual composure resuming residence in his brain.

It was over. They’d made it through, and no one hated each other. In fact, he thought his friends had warmed to Kenma nicely. Time would tell if the reverse was true, given his boyfriend’s guard stood several meters high with new people. But he had plenty of hope.

“Well, that’s done. I think it went okay,” he said, looking at Kenma. “Did you have fun?”

True to form, Kenma offered him an unenthusiastic return look. His hair was coming loose from the clips that had held it back, two-toned strands brushing against his forehead in uneven clumps. Even the way he walked was a shuffle compared to the purposeful gait he’d employed earlier. All in all, he looked deflated.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone for a week,” Kenma muttered.

"Now, now. I know Bo's a ball of energy, but Akaashi didn't talk your ear off."

"He didn't need to. I could feel him watching me all night," Kenma said, frowning. "You've told me stories. But meeting him is different."

Tetsurou put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward as the light flashed a walk signal.

He tried to consider the night from Kenma's perspective, and contrasted it with his first memory of meeting his friend. Granted, it was hard to compare a much younger, less outwardly calculating Akaashi with present him, but Tetsurou attempted. In both instances, he could see how it was intimidating. Even if Akaashi had talked with Kenma normally, it wasn't like Kenma would miss being observed so close. Not when that was something Kenma did to perfection with others.

When he'd met Akaashi, things had been different. They had been young, and Akaashi had been in an uneasy position, a new transfer to their school with no support system. To say his family worked constantly was an understatement. Even now, Tetsurou could only remember ever seeing emails or letters from Akaashi's parents. He'd never met them in person. Bokuto had confirmed their existence a few times, but it just went to show how alone the kid had been.

Tetsurou wouldn't have called him vulnerable at that age, or ever, but Akaashi had lacked the bite he'd developed over time. The bite that despite the resulting sting, Tetsurou liked seeing from him. It was a far better alternative to Akaashi acting like some emotionless shell.

"Sorry. He's naturally suspicious about everyone. But if he didn't like you, you'd know," Tetsurou said in reassurance.

"Where does he work again?"

"Lawyer. He's at a firm owned by his father's friend."

Kenma's eyes drifted, and he paused mid-step. Clucking his tongue, Tetsurou gave him a push, and they continued down the next block.

It was late, and in the residential part of the city, that gave them the sidewalk mostly to themselves. Moonlight dappled the cement with brighter patches, and wind soared through from behind them, the air so cold that his breath came out in faint wisps of white. Tetsurou shivered, but tried to appreciate the flawless midnight blue skies above them. It was rare that he got to relax long enough to really notice such things.

When he glanced to his side the next time, Kenma's face was steeped in thought. Tetsurou slowed in his walk, and as if noticing the change, Kenma turned his head. His eyes seemed to glow against the shadowed backdrop of the street, golden and piercing in intensity. He stared at Tetsurou for a long moment, then seeming to make up his mind about whatever he was debating internally, turned away, speeding up as they rounded a corner.

"What?" Tetsurou asked as he tried to match their pace, hopeful his curiosity would be rewarded.

He had thought this earlier too, but Kenma was acting oddly pensive tonight. More than usual, anyway. It didn't feel like the anxiety either. If he had to guess, it felt like Kenma was mulling something over that went much deeper than psyching himself up to meet new people or questioning if he'd fit in. Something that maybe wasn't about Kenma himself at all. Was it work? Was it about him? Tetsurou had to wonder. He somehow doubted he'd receive an answer until Kenma was done thinking it over.

Kenma looked over his shoulder, lips forming a flat line on his face. His breath trailed out in a barely visible stream.

"I'm naturally suspicious too."

**. . . . .**

No matter how many times she had stood in prison visitation rooms, she couldn’t get over how cold and clinical they felt. Cement block walls, reinforced glass separating inmates from guests, and furniture that was all utility, zero warmth. Everything was devoid of color apart from the jumpsuits the prisoners wore. And the only reason those clothes were made to stood out was so if they ever managed to escape, prisoners could be easily spotted. Brought back to be the sole exception to a depressing, monotone landscape.

Mika clutched her purse to her side, repressing the shiver she wanted to give into. But she wouldn’t falter, because she was different now. There was no way to achieve her goals if she let fear get in the way. If she let a little uncertainty or discomfort stop her. 

“Satou Yona-san, you can head to booth four. He’ll be out in a minute,” a guard said.

And in this disguise, it worked against her. Meek and polite didn’t match the outward appearance she was showing the world.

“Thanks,” she answered briskly, standing up straight and cocking a hip out, one hand balanced on it. “I hope there won’t be any delays. I’ve heard you like to engineer those to limit visitation time.”

The guard’s expression tightened.

Mika bit down on her tongue, trying to will away the embarrassment she felt at talking like that. Her frustration was genuine, but she hadn’t been raised to let those emotions show so openly. Or to snap back at people in positions of authority. If he had known, her father would have probably rolled over in his grave. His sweet flower, acting the role of disgruntled upstart, and dressing in alternative fashion. She knew it would only be worse if he had lived to see what she did on a daily basis now. But he hadn’t, and perhaps that was best.

She was only doing what she needed to do to protect what was hers. To become an equal.

Walking down the row of booths, she noted the empty seats. Eyes flicking over the vacancies, Mika took the fact in stride. It was mid-morning on a weekday. And it was to her benefit. The less people nearby, the less she had to worry about someone catching her trip up somehow.

The risk of being spotted was what had kept her visiting for so long. That, and being busy. As time wore on, it became more dangerous to leave hiding. With each success Nohebi claimed, the agents from Nekoma Agency had grown bolder in their attempt to locate her. She couldn’t let that happen. Not now, not ever.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of stopping her plans when it was their fault for upending her life in the first place. All of her joy, her hopes, and her dreams had been put on pause each time they arrested her fiancé. They could never begin to understand how she felt. But when she got the chance, she would try to spell it out for them. With any luck, to one agent in particular.

Finding her seat, she settled herself against the cool plastic, tucking her legs under and to the side. It was habit when she wore anything with a skirt. And, despite the wild attitude she was trying to give off, neglecting all her manners felt like she was going a step too far.

Mika sighed. Low in her stomach, her nerves bubbled, competing with longing.

Months had passed since she had seen Suguru’s face. It was strange how much longer that time span seemed. Strange how someone she had initially felt little for now took up so much space in her heart. She would do just about anything for him. And was.

In the fairytales she had loved reading as a little girl, princes were the ones who swept in to save the princesses. From dragons, curses, or other forms of peril. Bad marriages, sometimes. Princes always prevailed over the threat, and the princesses fell in love with them. Love in fairytales was immediate, full of certainty, and always sunny.

That wasn’t how it had ended up happening for her.

Suguru had always been a prince, and at one point in her life, she had been a princess. In their world, it wasn’t unheard of for parents to seek out arranged matches for their children. To business associates, or anyone with a good lineage or promising future. So, it hadn’t surprised her to wind up with a fiancé around the time she was set to enter high school. She trusted her parents’ judgement. Mika just hadn’t expected it to be him.

They had known each other from childhood, but had never been close. Suguru was someone who had never felt genuine enough for her to be comfortable befriending. As they got older, that magnified, when she distrusted the boys he hung out with, or the way he flirted with other girls. More than once, he had flirted with her, and she’d never given him the time of day. He had felt too slick, too grandiose for her to bother with; totally incompatible for what she wanted in a boyfriend.

But her father had liked him enough to agree to Suguru being her future husband.

And because she was a good daughter, she had tried to accept that.

But she hadn’t liked him. Not even a little.

Suguru had made that difficult. From all appearances, he was a top-rate fiancé, showering her in gifts and bringing her to parties that only the elite warranted an invitation for. He had tried, in his own way, to woo her. Mika couldn’t say it wasn’t flattering, but it had also turned her off. It had felt superficial. It had felt like he never showed her who he really was, beneath the veneer. If she was honest though, she had never expended any special effort to look deeper either.

They’d decided together to postpone the wedding until after university. If they weren’t madly in love, there was no reason to rush.

Mika worried at a strand of hair, twisting it around her finger.

Probably, Suguru had been betting on that extra time changing her mind. It had to a point. She had tolerated him that first year away together at school, and maybe allowed him the closeness of a friend. It had felt practical to establish that much of a relationship if they were meant to spend their lives together.

What had really changed things came later. For better and for worse.

The creak of a door pulled Mika from her thoughts. She lowered her hand, folding it in her lap with the other and squeezing them together to alleviate some residual nerves. Her eyes searched, and caught on the sight of Suguru being walked up to the other side of the glass.

Their gazes locked, and her heart fluttered. She wished with all her might that she could somehow reach through the glass and hold him.

But she knew better. Reality was cruel and unavoidable. Besides, the look he gave her before policing his reaction almost made up for the barrier in between them. Almost. It was evident that even under clothes she’d never normally wear, and a new, loud hairstyle, he recognized her immediately. And that he was happy to see her.

The months apart hadn’t changed that.

“Yona-san,” Suguru said, leaning forward in his chair to touch a hand to the glass. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How nice of you to visit.”

Mika’s lips trembled.

“I’ve been busy,” she replied simply, resisting the urge to place her hand up there too. “Work. It never ends.”

Then something snapped, her patience perhaps, and she dropped the rehearsed casualness.

“Are you well?”

Suguru’s thin lips parted, a laugh emerging softly.

“As well as I can be. I’m glad you’re here,” he answered with uncharacteristic seriousness. “I wondered if perhaps you didn’t want to be ‘friends’ anymore with me. I wouldn’t blame you at this point. I messed everything up.”

Mika shook her head.

“I don’t want to be ‘friends,’ Suguru.” Leaning forward, her voice dropped to its lowest volume. She knew it wasn’t a guarantee that it wouldn’t be heard by someone, but she had to say what she felt. What was nearly bursting out of her now that he sat inches away.

“I’m going to fix things. I’m working on a plan, so please be patient a little longer.”

Suguru’s dark eyes narrowed, and he threw a quick, cautious glance over his shoulder. But despite the fluctuation in tone, the guards weren’t watching them any closer than usual. Mika waited, her pulse quickening as the silence extended. All she wanted out of today, other than seeing him, was his blessing. Everything was ready, and though she couldn’t share the details with him, she hoped he’d trust her anyway. Trust her to save him this time. A fallen princess saving her disgraced prince.

She had never grown out of fairytales; she just took them with a grain of salt now.

“Alright.”

Mika exhaled. Tension ebbed away. She gave in and placed her hand over Suguru’s on the glass, curling her fingers against the barrier. If they were fortunate, his old playboy reputation would excuse him acting this way with someone he supposedly wasn’t together with. She was too tired of pretending to care if she was slipping. Keeping her emotions at bay was a personal strength of hers, but she had limits.

Limits that were currently far exceeded.

“I won’t name names, but you ought to know who to watch out for,” Suguru said, his face pinching with distaste. “All I ask is that you’re careful around him. I loathe admitting it, but for a cat, his claws are tough.”

Mika nodded, a smile dawning on her lips.

“I’ve planned for that. You know the old saying about cats and curiosity, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Kenma! ♥♥♥ And for your gift... _-nervous laughter-_ your boyfriend is in danger? 
> 
> At least he got to eat apple pie, though. I'm not a monster. 
> 
> If you want, come interact with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/risquetendency). Always happy to make new KRKN / BKAK buddies!


	3. bait and switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're on to actual spy content! I had fun writing this chapter, even if it was tough in places.
> 
> Friendly reminder that you are welcome to interact on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/risquetendency).

Tetsurou allowed himself a moment to soak in the grandeur of his surroundings.

It wasn’t his first time attending a high-profile event. But the few he had gone to had been held in conference centers or other modern venues. Amakura Castle was over a hundred years old, and had been restored to its full glory without compromising that history.

Steep ceilings capped off gleaming wood floors broken up by original support beams. Newer parts of the castle utilized western design principles, with more stone used in the construction, and larger rooms. In preparation for the auction, the castle interior was lit by hundreds of candles. The dining tables were draped in white silk, and art hung on the walls. Tetsurou didn’t want to try to guess at what any one piece would cost.

Letting out a low whistle, he moved a few feet, settling against the railing that overlooked the first floor. It was a useful vantage point.

Scanning the room, Tetsurou mapped the basic setup. Below him was a dance area and the tables where refreshments were available throughout the evening. The pieces being auctioned off were displayed in their own separate, side rooms off the main ballroom.

Guests were invited to make a tour of each room to view the jewels and paintings before deciding which to bid on. Later in the night, the pieces would be brought out to the ballroom and the auction would commence.

Tetsurou got up and circled the upper level at a casual pace.

Sticking to one spot would make him stand out, and that wasn’t the goal. He needed to appear like any other party guest. Curious about the location, the other people, and what there was to do and buy. Beyond that, he had to keep a sharp eye out. It paid to memorize the floor plan. He had no idea if he’d run into trouble tonight, but if he needed an escape route, he wanted to have one ready to go.

Static crackled in his ear.

Tetsurou nodded to a passing man and increased his pace, moving to another unoccupied spot.

“Yes?” he said, training his eyes far off in the distance and pretending to concentrate on a chandelier dangling down from the ceiling.

“003 and I are in place, five miles east.”

The ranger station, Tetsurou thought. A little far for a nighttime hike, but he’d make it if he ran out of options. He’d done that before, when there had no clear path to extraction from a mission. Working remote locations like this made it hard to have a vehicle on standby, or air support. Frankly, he doubted Amakura had the space for a helipad.

The castle backed up to woods on three fronts, with a single dirt road leading down the mountain that was two car widths wide. It teetered on the edge of a sheer cliff face, overlooking a ravine through which a river flowed.

If he had his toolbelt with him, rappelling down would have been an option, but it was hard to hide something bulky under a tailored suit. He needed to look like he belonged here, with the upper class, so effort had been put into his appearance. Tetsurou had even gone to the length of slicking back his hair, much to the mirth of his so-called teammates.

Some support they were.

Still, Tetsurou was glad Kenma and Yaku were close by. Given the size of the auction party, his subordinates weren’t able to tag along without adding too many names to the guest list that were out of place. He was working alone, tonight. Knowing two sets of eyes were watching his back was comforting, even if they weren't there with him.

"Noted."

"Head downstairs. I have a visual on Kuguri. He's just arriving," Kenma said through the line.

"Engage, or...?"

"Not yet. Just keep an eye on what he does."

He started walking, heading for the staircase. Tetsurou smiled as he stepped around a set of couples conversing halfway down the flight, champagne glasses in hand. Making a polite nod of his head, he swept past them to the first floor. As he stepped onto the polished orange wood, his eyes made a one-eighty scan of the area.

"Do you know which way he went?" he asked under his breath.

"Left at the entrance chamber. From there, my camera's line of sight is blocked. The next camera down that hallway hasn't spotted him. He probably isn't in the guest rooms."

Tetsurou pursed his lips. Now that he lacked an aerial perspective, the next best option for him to see in all directions was the dance floor.

It was crowded there at the moment, but if he blended into the mass of people, he could weave in and out to scan the room from different points. With everyone so focused on mingling, he doubted most of them would pay any attention to him being there and not dancing with anyone. With any luck, Kuguri would appear, and he could tail him from there.

Tetsurou's jaw locked, his features settling into a serious mask.

Criminals slipped up, regularly. A significant proportion of people who broke the law lacked strong impulse control; statistics could confirm that. When the natural probability of human error mixed with irrational thinking, mistakes were bound to occur. Even then, he'd been surprised how easily a guy who worked so close with Daishou had been marked. Kuguri didn't strike him as the most careful person, but he didn't seem reckless. If anything, Tetsurou's impression of him was that he lacked passion. Maybe that lack of caring was what made him sloppy now.

In the past, Kuguri had been a solid fighter when provoked, but when he had finally been arrested, he'd given up without any resistance. Now that he had served his sentence, it seemed like he had learned nothing from his time in prison. He didn't try to hide his movements, even when he had to know the odds were good that Nekoma was keeping tabs on him because of the open case with Mika.

That was strange, but Tetsurou wasn't about to complain. If a weak link like Kuguri was what led him to his real target, then he'd take it.

He approached the dance floor, and before entering the crowd, Tetsurou made one last check behind him.

Something tugged in his gut as a light-haired head ducked around a corner.

Was it Kuguri? He hadn't seen the person long enough to tell.

"Excuse me."

Tetsurou smoothed out his expression, turning toward the voice.

"Yes?"

A woman stood before him. She wore a high-necked, deep emerald gown. The skirt was slit open on the sides, revealing milk-white legs ending in a pair of stiletto heels. Her hair was glaring red, short, and swept into soft waves on either side of her face. Between that and her attire, she made an impression against the more muted, proper tones of the formalwear the other guests sported. Tetsurou caught her gaze, which seemed intrigued as it crossed the considerable gap between their heights.

"You're not here with anyone, right?" she asked, brusquely to the point. "If you're not, we should dance."

He smiled, and tried not to show his annoyance.

This was a speedbump, but a necessary evil if he wanted to keep his cover intact. If he hadn't just caught sight of his target, he'd be more willing to play along, but Kuguri wasn't going anywhere. And hadn't spotted him yet. Tetsurou could spare a few minutes to entertain someone who had noticed him. When that was taken care of, he could move on, hopefully without attracting more special attention.

And to think Kenma had said his hair looked ridiculous tonight. Clearly, not everyone shared that harsh, incorrect opinion if he had been accosted for a dance two minutes after arriving to the floor. If there was any justice, the security cameras would provide proof of this victory for review later. Preferably when they were back under the same roof and he could gloat to Kenma's face.

"I don't normally say yes to strangers, but one dance couldn't hurt."

"One dance then," she agreed.

Tetsurou let her lead them to a free space on the dance floor, and focused on keeping his eyes from searching around too obviously. If he was going to be delayed, he didn't want to waste his time one-hundred percent.

"You're forward," he said, injecting a laugh into his voice, then paused. "I don't even know your name."

The woman smiled, and Tetsurou noticed her softer features. Round jaw, small nose and lips. They stood in stark contrast to her loud sense of fashion. He wondered if that was intentional. Sometimes people wanted to break the mold they were dealt.

"I like the idea of us staying strangers. You're only in my life tonight. After that, who knows where you'll end up."

She trailed off the statement with a huge lilt, dark brown eyes narrowing in concentration. Her hands rose to grip Tetsurou's shoulders, and he obliged, gaining a grip somewhere near her waist. Around them, soft piano music swelled, filling the room with a slow, almost melancholy tune. His brows furrowed, focusing on moving his feet correctly as they swayed together. It had been ages since he'd danced with anyone, so it felt strange. But maybe it was because he didn't know her. She felt smaller and more fragile than he was used to.

Tetsurou zoned out.

He doubted the idea would be well-received, but he wondered if Kenma would ever dance with him. Maybe if they were alone. Probably not even then. It was hard to imagine Kenma agreeing, let alone having the coordination to keep up.

Fondness and amusement sloshed inside Tetsurou's gut, making his pulse quicken.

Having his foot stomped on was tolerable if it meant dancing with the guy he loved. He'd have to try to convince Kenma somehow.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Her voice pulled him from his daydream, and Tetsurou grounded himself. But when he looked down, the woman he was dancing with didn't seem upset. She was staring at him intently, as if trying to figure something out. Then, with seamless grace, she untangled them, stepping back.

"I'm thirsty. Can I get you a drink before we part ways?"

Tetsurou shook his head. That was one of the first rules he'd learned when he'd become an agent. Never accept food or drinks you can't verify the safety of. Anyone could have ill intent, and slipping drugs into a drink was one of the simplest ways an enemy could incapacitate you. Even if she seemed harmless, he knew better than to risk finding out otherwise.

"No, thank you."

She stifled a laugh behind one hand.

"Stingy. Have a nice rest of your life, stranger," she called over her shoulder. In a flash of emerald silk, her petite frame disappeared into the crowd.

He waited until the song changed and dancing couples began to creep into the space she had vacated. Then Tetsurou walked toward a nearby door, and started down the hallway.

In this wing of the castle were the rooms housing the items up for auction. Since he didn't have an active lead on Kuguri, Tetsurou figured he'd be useful and scout out what was on offer. The majority were paintings, but there was a necklace in the group. Nohebi's assumed goal for the night. From what he recalled, it was supposed to be a choker-style necklace, a 18K gold band inlaid with topaz and diamonds. The piece was donated to the auction via the private collection owned by Takahashi Reijiro.

Unlike the late, unlucky, Tomada, Takahashi's collection had never been targeted by the snakes. But there was a first time for everything.

"Status?"

Kenma's quiet voice filled his ear, and Tetsurou paused at a doorway, peering inside. Painting, he noted, moving down toward the next door.

"I'm checking the auction pieces. West hallway. I thought I saw Kuguri briefly, earlier, but then I got stopped."

"Yeah, I heard her."

Tetsurou thought he detected a hint of annoyance in his handler's voice. But rather than act like the consummate professional he was, he felt the urge rise to be difficult. Ducking inside another room, he confirmed it was empty.

"She didn't think my hair looked ridiculous," he teased, knowing that on the other end, Kenma was giving him the evil eye. It didn't deter him. "I guess I clean up okay after all."

"Tell her to get her eyesight checked," a third voice interjected sharply.

Tetsurou glared into thin air.

"Wow, thanks for joining us tonight, Yakkun. I wasn't aware that you were slumming it on audio comms duty."

Yaku snorted, half amused, half exasperated.

"I'm not," he said. "I have too much to do to help 005 babysit. But I'm your boss, and you're not there to flirt with him. Get back to work."

"I just like to make sure he realizes how good he has it," Tetsurou said. "I'm a hot commodity, _sir_."

If he used his imagination, he could picture his friend's disgusted reaction.

At times, Yaku was up for trading jabs, but more often, he was the first to shut it down. He didn't tolerate foolishness when it came to work, and was serious to a fault. In Tetsurou's opinion, Yaku could stand to lighten up, and he did try to influence him accordingly. But even Tetsurou knew when to quit while he was ahead. Or before he dug himself too big of a hole to crawl out of unscathed after the mission was over.

"Anyway, this room is another painting. I'll report back when I find the necklace."

Tetsurou moved further down the hall.

It was quiet on the west side of Amakura. He methodically checked each display room, but didn't encounter a single bidder. In some ways, that was good, as it allowed him to not split his focus maintaining his cover story. He was able to go door to door without delays. Annoyingly, he made it to the end of the long corridor without locating what he was after.

Beyond the final room was the exit to the castle walkway, a wide stretch of cobblestones lining the top of the walls. As he made one last glance over his shoulder, a cool breeze wafted in through the open door, stinging his face.

He didn't need extra help to be on full alert.

Tetsurou's dark eyes narrowed as he studied the moonlit tableau outside.

Tonight's mission was too straightforward. Tetsurou appreciated all the help the universe chose to gift him, but the ease meant one of two things. Either Amakura wasn't a target for Nohebi, and Kuguri wasn't involved, or his maneuverings were simple on purpose. Because they had been engineered to be that way.

Call it a hunch, but he didn't like how much his gut was favoring the second explanation.

Still, he didn't have any concrete reason to back off. Instinct alone was subjective. Until something actually went wrong, he had a job to do. Short of arresting one of Nohebi's key players, gathering information and keeping the necklace safe were his responsibilities.

"Okay, this should be it," he said, reaching for the door handle.

"Location?" Kenma asked.

"Last door. It links to the open part on the castle's west wall. I see no one else. You haven't seen Kuguri, right?"

"No."

Tetsurou paused, debating if it was pointless to add his suspicions.

But then his earpiece crackled, and more words echoed forth, spoken in Kenma's neutral tone.

"Check the room, then head back to the main area. Once you're there, stay put and wait for the auction. If nothing happens, we're done tonight."

The clear instructions permeated through Tetsurou's misgivings, and gave him something to focus on. Nothing had to be wrong, he'd just had to think this way for too many years when working. Sometimes their intel turned up nothing of value, and they followed leads that were pointless in the end. That was fine. What he needed to do was keep moving, like he was now, and rule out this location properly. Then he'd retreat, and wait for the next shot at a break in the case.

"Noted. I'm going in."

Pushing the door open, Tetsurou entered the final room.

At first, he rejoiced to see a clear, reinforced glass display case. It wasn't another painting. But then he scoped out what was inside the case, and frowned. His eyes fixed on the necklace, nestled on top of a plush, navy cushion. Moving forward as if tugged by an unseen string, he found himself in front of the case, one hand reaching to feel out the blunt edges. But he stopped short. Fingerprints.

More importantly, before he could investigate further, he needed to report back.

"Something's wrong."

His voice sounded unsteady, but he was certain.

This wasn't the necklace that was supposed to be on auction tonight. Rather than a choker, it was a pendant, with a large, red center stone.

"Details," Kenma pressed over the connection.

"The necklace isn't here. Another is. It has to have been switched," Tetsurou responded, speaking quicker as his brain started to card through memories of jewelry he'd looked at in this case. All manner of bracelets, necklaces, rings, and uncut gems rolled across his mind like frames in a camera reel. He knew he'd seen it before.

And then the answer struck.

"It's the Roestenburg piece. Shit, I think they've already been here," he cursed, irritation making his temples throb. "But the auction items weren't supposed to be brought in until this afternoon. I've been on site that whole time. We didn't have a way to watch them load things inside, but-"

"I'll signal 002 to come extract you," Kenma said. "Until he can get there, gather what information you can."

Tetsurou cursed again, under his breath.

He didn't often indulge in such language, but this was beyond annoying. Following lame duck leads was sometimes his lot in life, but the fact that the auction piece had been switched with something Nohebi had stolen in the past felt like a personal slight. A way for them to say that they were capable of having the upper hand, no matter how carefully Tetsurou thought he was investigating.

"Focus," Kenma steered him.

"Fine, I'll check for latent prints. You know there won't be any, though," Tetsurou griped, mind formulating a few more colorful epithets. From his suit pocket, he pulled out a thin silver case. Sealed inside was a pair of gloves and a dusting kit.

"We don't know that."

"I do."

"You complain like a rookie agent, _Captain_."

A flush swept over Tetsurou as he heard his title spoken. His stomach squirmed and he shifted on his feet, not knowing how to react. If there was ever someone who disliked ranks and the honor system, it was his boyfriend. It was rare to hear that word cross Kenma's lips, at least about him. But that made it a great way to catch his attention. Which was the point. Clearly.

Red-faced, he put the gloves on and studied the display case.

"Shutting up," he muttered.

"Two hours until extraction, per agent 002. He's climbing the mountain. There's a hiking trail that will support off-road bikes, but he's covering tracks on his way here."

Tetsurou set to work, dusting the glass before him for fingerprints.

That wasn't the best news he'd heard in a while. Given the timeframe, he'd still be here for the auction, at which point someone from the charity was bound to notice the item had been switched out. It might be entertaining to see them floundering about how to handle it, but he wasn't here tonight for laughs. He'd been outplayed by the snakes, and all he felt like doing was meaningful work. Amakura was a red herring.

He didn't have time to waste.

Tetsurou glared down at the decoy jewel. It wasn't a complete loss to recover a stolen item, but one had been taken in its place. Did that count as a negative score?

He sighed, and then his eyes darted to the side, catching a reflection in the glass.

Another person, tall and wearing a dark suit.

Tetsurou tensed, hands stilling and letting his supplies drop to the ground. No matter how this went, he needed to have them free.

Behind him, close to his ear, there was an ominous, metallic click.

"I think you've had enough time to snoop."

Tetsurou's pulse revved, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the shift in circumstances. He studied the reflection, letting it register clearly to him. The person behind him was the guy he'd been searching for. Kuguri. Perhaps it was his blonde head Tetsurou had spotted earlier after all.

But he'd been found instead.

Kuguri stepped closer, and his gun pressed into the back of Tetsurou's neck.

"First, you lose the wire. Then I'll have you toss your weapon, agent."

Tetsurou kept his eyes on Kuguri's reflection.

"So efficient. Have you done this before?" he taunted.

"Ah, you're the one with the big mouth," Kuguri said, a bored expression staring back at him. "Sorry, but I don't have much patience."

He dug the barrel of the gun in more firmly.

"Take the earpiece out. Throw it on the ground, and stomp on it. Do a good job, now, loud guy."

Tetsurou's jaw set. He lifted a hand toward his head as instructed, slow. Cold metal remained against the nape of his neck, unwavering. His fingers found the earpiece, pulling it out. Watching Kuguri's reflection, he tried to gauge their positions in relation to each other. His right hand was free. Kuguri stood behind and slightly to his left. They were close, with little room in between their bodies.

But it would have to do. Tetsurou didn't have any other good options.

Trying was the only one.

He extended his left hand, making it seem like he was about to drop the ear piece. Tetsurou's breath hitched, and he steeled his nerves.

Kicking backwards, his foot slammed into Kuguri's shin, making him stumble. Tetsurou shifted his body to the side, leaning hard away from the gun. Kuguri swore and recoiled, but in a split second, Tetsurou bent and sprung up, throwing his body weight into Kuguri's shooting arm. He lost a grip, and the gun flew, crashing against the stone floor and skittering away.

Tetsurou turned.

A fist rocketed forward, catching him in the side of the face, pummeling his jaw. Pain webbed out from the blow, hot and stinging. He bit his tongue. Tetsurou gripped Kuguri's shoulders with both hands, and ignoring the throbbing of his injury, launched his head forward against Kuguri's. They both winced at impact, but Tetsurou was ready. Kicking, he managed to sweep across Kuguri at the ankles.

His foe crumpled like a marionette with cut strings.

Tetsurou jumped on top of him, and landed a swift punch to Kuguri's face. A snarl split the air, and they tussled, Kuguri's nails digging into his wrists. But adrenaline and desperation were powerful motivators, and gave him strength. Tetsurou ripped his hands free from the hold, and began to rain punches, with a stray elbow to the chest for good measure.

He wasn't about to be caught. He didn't care how dirty he had to fight. All that mattered was winning.

Kuguri's leg propelled up under him, bony knee slamming into Tetsurou's abdomen. It knocked the wind out of him, and Kuguri used the moment of shock. Locking their bodies, Kuguri rolled them over, and adjusted, planting his knee against Tetsurou's throat.

He levered his weight against it threateningly, staring down at Tetsurou with cold, merciless eyes. The eyes of someone who also had no limits on what they'd do to win a fight.

Kuguri's chest heaved with huge, sweeping breaths. Blood dripped from his lip, and covered the front of his dress shirt.

Tetsurou's pulse pounded in his ears, distractingly loud and urgent. Fury blocked out everything else.

He felt pinned. His body was overstimulated, and his mind far from clear.

What could he do?

Was there a next move? He couldn't think.

"Enough. I told you," Kuguri wheezed. "I don't have much patience."

He slid a hand inside his pants pocket, withdrawing a long cylindrical object. Flicking the cap off with his thumb, it revealed a needle. Kuguri pushed down on the end, letting a stream of pale green liquid spritz free into the air.

"Time for a kitty-cat nap. And then, when you wake up, we'll see what she wants to do with you."

Tetsurou's eyes widened.

He had been partly wrong earlier. Amakura wasn't a red herring. His real target was here. What he hadn't known was that it was a trap.


	4. two can keep a secret

"What dosage did you give him?"

"20ml. Like you asked."

A sigh echoed, the sound reverberating inside his blank brain. Tetsurou came to. His eyelids fluttered, and met with darkness. Sensation seeped in slowly. His body felt weighted down, but he felt no form of restraint on him. If he could shake off the heaviness, he could move. Probably. But even as his brain started to function, the stupor in his muscles stayed consistent.

It was the drug, he guessed, remembering before he blacked out. He had no idea what he'd been injected with. A sedative seemed likely..

"Keep an eye on him then. He should be alert soon."

She knew her numbers. But for someone who'd had a medical education, even an unfinished one, that made sense.

Tetsurou wondered what her plan was. It depended on what drove her. Mika struck him as someone acting on her emotions. She didn't seem like the cold, detached sort. Whatever this crime spree was, it wasn't because she'd woken up one day and decided to keep Daishou's pet project alive. Daishou had something to do with it, Tetsurou guessed, but she wanted something out of this. In all likelihood, her fiancé to walk free. How she planned to do that, he didn't yet know. But Tetsurou imagined he'd come to find out. Or he wouldn't, and he'd die.

That was his reality.

Either he was someone she planned to use, as a bargaining chip perhaps, or she wanted to kill him. The fact that she'd had Kuguri drug him and bring him here led Tetsurou to believe all the more in the emotion-driven theory. Kuguri had pinned him. If they just wanted him out of their way, he could have been gone already. Her impatience clinched that.

What did she want?

Tetsurou's head throbbed, and he grit his teeth.

He couldn't play unconscious much longer if she knew he was supposed to be awake. There wasn't time to formulate a grand escape plan. He'd have to drag things if he could, by doing what he did best - talking. If he did it well, then she could always change her mind. Keep him alive and use him. That sounded like a fair compromise.

Anything to not wind up dead.

Fear wasn't something he had the heart to entertain. Ignoring his nerves, Tetsurou slowly inhaled, and his lips touched cold, uneven stone. He was lying face down. It was hard to know where they were. Sedatives had a wide spectrum of effectiveness. Nohebi could have brought him to a second location, or they might still be somewhere in Amakura Castle.

A kick landed against his right flank, unkind but not full force. Tetsurou grimaced, and his body recoiled.

"There, he's awake," Kuguri's perpetually passionless voice stated. "Say what you want to, and then let's leave."

Hope flared to life inside him.

"If I have to clean him off the cobblestones, I want a bonus."

Or not. He immediately cut off the negative thought. There was no time for doom and gloom. Only for saving himself.

"Enough."

Heels clicked against the ground as someone stepped forward. Tetsurou let one more breath filter through him, and felt the sedative begin to ebb. More and more sensation, dominated by pain, surged in, stinging through every part of his body. However he'd gotten to where they were, it hadn't been a smooth journey.

Groaning, he lifted his head.

Tetsurou's eyes narrowed as they traveled higher.

Dark, emerald silk dress, pale skin, and a haughty attitude. Only now, his ex-dance partner's hair was a demure mop of chestnut brown, complete with long, curtained bangs. Her face was the same as it had been, staring up at him with so much curiosity earlier. Feigned curiosity.

Her words rang in his head.

_"After that, who knows where you'll end up."_

Who knew, indeed.

"Laying on the ground suits you, agent." Mika looked disgusted. Her eyes flashed with sudden emotion, seeming to darken.

"I wish I had never seen you. Never known who was responsible for locking Suguru in a cage. That might have been better. For the both of us."

She exhaled, breath quivering harshly as it left her lips.

"I never understood how he did this kind of work. He's not a violent man. But when you have a good reason, anything is possible."

"What's the reason?" Tetsurou asked. It came out as more of a croak. "What do you want?"

Mika's lips ground together, pursing out, trembling. At her side, her free hand twitched, fingers tightening and forming a fist. The other hand had a gun trained on him, a small pistol that her frame could support the kickback from. But the size wasn't important.

It was how good of a shot she was.

Then again, she had backup. Kuguri was armed. It didn't take an army to dispatch of a single, defenseless person. Two snakes would do.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"Hey." Tetsurou spoke, sharp and direct. "I have a job to do. Anything with Daishou is just that. He steals, and I arrest him. It's not personal," he explained, focusing his attention on neutrality, not letting any panic or frustration bleed in. He maintained a moderate volume.

Sometimes something as simple as that was enough to diffuse a person spiraling out of control.

He needed to make her believe that. If she wanted to hurt him because of a personal vendetta, then he needed to make this as un-personal as possible. No excuses for his behavior, no language that slighted Daishou, and no assumptions. Whatever Tetsurou actually felt about Nohebi's ringleader didn't matter. Staying alive mattered, and he intended to do just that.

"You don't understand!" she shot, the accusation exploding from her. "He isn't doing it for money. He's-"

"Then help me understand. Please," Tetsurou emphasized, the picture of calm for someone on the ground, no protective gear, with two armed suspects poised to kill above him.

Mika's hands shook, her gun swaying.

"I don't have to tell you anything," she said, her volume lowering. Her breaths overlapped until they bordered on hyperventilation.

"No, you don't. But you wanted to talk to me. We've seen each other in court. I know everything that's happened has affected you. It's put your life on pause. I completely understand why you would think of me when you wanted to fix that."

"Stop. Talking." Mika's body was trembling, shaking with unfathomable rage.

He wasn't getting through. Every word he said to her seemed to bounce right off.

"Fine, then what do you want?" Tetsurou snapped, the leash on his feelings evaporating.

If passive negotiation wasn't working, then maybe provocation would.

"Is this your revenge fantasy? Do you think if you take me out, they'll just let Daishou walk free? I hate to break it to you, but that isn't happening!" he said, quick and bolder than he felt. Pressing his arms into the ground, he propped himself up.

Forget playing nice, and riding the tension out.

He couldn't just lay there anymore, and wait for them to decide how he'd die.

Mika's arm steadied, and she gripped her gun with both hands. Despite her erratic breathing, her dark eyes were hardened by intent.

Tetsurou heard movement, and before he could get his sluggish body to adjust, pain shot through his upper arm. He crumpled, breath expelling from him in a rush. Hot, intense agony tore through his bicep. He groaned as Kuguri twisted the knife, urging it deeper.

"Why don't you-"

A boom and a reverberation rocked the air. Tetsurou's eyes widened, shocked out of his soul. For a split second, the sound of the gunshot eclipsed everything he felt, every stab of blistering pain. But then the hand on him disappeared, and Kuguri's body rolled away. Curses left his lips, and a terrified noise issued from Mika in front of them.

Another shot rang out, rocketing into the ground between their positions.

"We're leaving!" Kuguri yelled. He sprung up from where he was kneeling, just in time to dodge another bullet.

Tetsurou collapsed on the ground, throwing his uninjured arm over his head, shielding it. The sedative lingered, making him feel fuzzy around the edges. He knew if he tried to run, the lack of speed and coordination could spell his death.

Whoever was shooting at them was more likely to be friend than foe. The snakes were fleeing.

That was enough reason to hold his position, at least until his assailants were further away. Then he'd see what his body was capable of.

Three more gunshots blitzed through, keening as they hit the cobblestones. Tetsurou's pulse thundered. There wasn't enough air in his lungs to support how fast he was breathing. But the bullets were pelting the ground away from him. Kuguri and Mika were fading from view. He had a chance.

Who was shooting?

Had Kai made better time than he'd promised? It was just like that guy to be modest and overestimate how long it'd take.

It was probably Kai.

The ranger station was too far. He didn't think he'd been unconscious long enough to make it logical for Yaku or Kenma to have arrived.

Then, everything stopped.

Silence and smoke filled the air, the latter rising into the night sky and muddying its perfection.

Tetsurou raised his head, blinking as he scanned his surroundings.

As he watched the smoke swirl upwards, he was struck by how fortunate he felt to be alive. The stars were out now, glistening peacefully above his head, and he'd be there to see the sky melt into a sunrise at least one more time.

Tetsurou's head cleared. He allowed himself to hope.

He was going to get out of here. Pending medical intervention, he was going to be fine. Once stable, he would find Mika and arrest her. Kuguri too.

For now, the best thing to do was take things one minute at a time. 

Dragging his body over the cobblestones, Tetsurou inched toward a low wall. He tucked his arm against his chest, focusing on not jostling the blade sticking out of it. Without assurances of where it was lodged within the complex landscape of his muscles, blood vessels, and nerves, he wasn't going to remove it. Unfortunately, that assurance wouldn't come until he was back at headquarters. The knife and he were going to be intimate friends for a while.

It wasn't the most pleasant relationship he'd ever been in. Every time he so much as breathed, he felt a deep, pulsing ache radiating outward from his right upper arm. Blood had slopped down his side, leaving wet patches against the charcoal fabric of his suit. The amount lost was manageable. With luck, he wouldn't need a transfusion. The wound felt isolated to his flesh. If Kuguri had lacerated an artery, there'd be far more blood to contend with.

And a much shorter life expectancy for him.

Tetsurou leaned his head back, cycling through ragged breaths.

It was the last thing he needed to think about, but his head filled with images of Kenma.

There was no way to know how much Kenma knew at this point. How much he had guessed from what he might have heard over the wire earlier. How he was holding up. If he was safe.

Tetsurou's throat tightened with emotion.

He tried to suppress it, but the tension spread deeper, growing roots in his chest. His heart seized, worry immobilizing the rhythm.

Rationally, the odds were favorable that Kenma was fine. He was capable of defending himself if he needed to. Once upon a time, Kenma had been a field agent just like Tetsurou. A career shift didn't erase Kenma's combat experience, his instincts, his mental strength. Any worry that Tetsurou felt was irrational. And unavoidable because he was in love with Kenma.

Somehow, he'd survived tonight. He'd been stabbed. Drugged. Almost shot too, if it wasn't for whoever just drove his attackers away. Presumably, he was out of danger.

Was it wrong to let his emotions take hold?

Footsteps approached. Tetsurou's head jerked up, and he braced his arm, ready to hold it steady if he needed to shoot to his feet.

His eyes latched onto the outline of the newcomer, his rescuer.

And then his breathing cut off completely.

Shock worked its way through him, making him feel as numb as when the sedative had been more potent. Tetsurou's eyes magnified, and his jaw lowered as he gaped in dumbstruck awe.

Walking toward him, wearing body armor and a rifle strapped to his back, was someone who never should have been in the running.

"I hope I didn't clip you, Kuroo-san."

Considering the situation, Tetsurou felt utterly justified in his word choice.

"Akaashi. What in the fuck are you doing here?"

He didn't know what to think. Or feel. He hardly knew what to say. Whatever came out of his mouth from this point on was going to be what it was. Any filter he possessed was out the window, on indefinite leave, and potentially never coming back.

"Work."

Had Tetsurou had the strength and the reach, he would have kicked Akaashi in the balls for such a smartass reply.

"Why are you here? Who are you?!"

"Let's get this stabilized. We can discuss matters on the way out. Unless you'd like to run your mouth until Nohebi returns?"

Tetsurou glared.

Years of close friendship, and he couldn't get a straight answer. That he'd been lied to was obvious. So much for Akaashi being a promising young lawyer. He had the duplicity such a career choice required down pat, but given the situation, Tetsurou imagined their jobs were similar. If he had to go out further on a limb, he'd guess Akaashi worked for the agency that had moved in on his case.

Huffing, he wasn't sure whether to be more pissed off or impressed that Akaashi's ability to annoy him was bleeding into his work life.

"Fine. But I want a real answer later."

Akaashi knelt beside him, and began pulling out supplies from his go-bag. His features narrowed in concentration as he assessed Tetsurou's arm.

"Not a problem. You can have first honors. Though, I'm not surprised. You have a strange work schedule for a chemist."

Tetsurou watched him unravel a long strip of cloth. Akaashi began winding it around his upper arm, curving it around where the knife stuck out. He pulled the fabric tight enough to maintain pressure on the surrounding tissue, but not enough to restrict blood flow.

"Let me guess," Tetsurou said, inspiration dawning on him. "You did a background check on me."

Akaashi tugged on the bandage to check his work.

"Yes. Don't feel special. I do them on everyone who enters my life. Or Bokuto-san's."

"Even after growing up together?" Tetsurou pressed. "What, did you think I snuck off and somehow became an evil mastermind in the year before you joined us in university?"

His friend's jaw tightened.

"I can't afford to make exceptions. If it is any consolation, I didn't do it because I don't trust you. It gave me peace of mind."

Tetsurou quieted, taken aback by Akaashi's candor.

He knew what kind of person Akaashi was. Everyone had their quirks. His included being thorough to the point of obsessiveness. They were different there. Tetsurou was more content to let things be. He had no idea which way was better. They were probably both flawed in how they acted. He could be too trusting. Akaashi struggled to turn his brain off.

Tetsurou sighed. Guilt swirled inside him, making his stomach turn over.

"But you must have known I was lying about my job."

"Yes." Akaashi maneuvered squares of hemostatic gauze along the edges of the wound, packing them in carefully so as to not jerk the blade. "But I was in no position to be angry once I found out. I was doing the same thing. I have been. There are things you don't know about me to this very day, Kuroo-san."

His muted green gaze flickered away, landing on the cobblestones. Akaashi's posture was tense, and Tetsurou could sense that he felt uneasy too. Maybe that was what was driving his honesty, because it felt like an eternity since they had talked to each other like this, without any subterfuge. Any banter. He couldn't even remember the last time, or what topic it might have been about.

But the bottom line was: they were talking.

Silence stretched out between them. Akaashi used another length of cloth to bind Tetsurou's arm against his chest in a makeshift sling. It would help with stabilization until they were able to get somewhere with medical equipment.

Tetsurou leaned forward, placing his free hand on his friend's shoulder. He squeezed it tight.

"If you feel like telling me those things later, I'm all ears."

"Thank you."

Akaashi turned away, frowning as he started to repack his supplies. As he watched him, Tetsurou's pulse spiked, but he chased the concern away. There wasn't time for him to delve deep. There were a hundred separate questions he wanted to ask. He settled for the most pressing one.

"Does Bokuto know?"

That earned a low sound from Akaashi resembling a laugh.

"He knows everything," Akaashi said. He rose to his feet, and settled his gear back on his shoulders.

"Everything?" Tetsurou emphasized.

"I have no secrets from Bokuto-san. I promised him that a long time ago." Akaashi extended a hand. "Can you walk?"

Tetsurou nodded. He braced himself, and grabbed Akaashi's proffered hand, using the tension between them to propel his body to an upright position. The moment he stood on two feet, Tetsurou's head swam, and he felt off-balance. He started to crumple. Akaashi's arms caught him, gripping under his good arm and at his side to hold him up. Once more, Tetsurou felt fuzzy around the edges.

Had the sedative really not left his system yet?

"They injected me with something," he groaned, hating his utter helplessness.

The moment he felt better, the first second his wounds were dealt with and his body was his own again, he was going to run ten miles. Maybe trounce his subordinates in multiple rounds of sparring or see if Yaku felt like taking him on. There was a substantial chance he'd get his ass kicked, but there was no one better to scrap with. Right now, Tetsurou felt useless, six-feet-plus of pure dead weight.

"It's time for us to leave anyway," Akaashi brushed off his comment. 

"Where are we going?"

"I imagine your backup is at the ranger station five miles east, correct?"

Tetsurou huffed.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised. It was Akaashi. Scoping out escape routes and points of interests for a mission was well within his over-cautious wheelhouse.

"Yes."

"Then we will drop you off."

"You're going to drag me up a mountain in the dark? I hope your backup is willing to bear my weight."

Akaashi sighed, seeming annoyed with him. He pulled a radio from his utility belt, and raised it to his lips. Clicking the talk button, he called into the receiver, "West exterior walkway. Targets have dispersed. We're moving out, Bokuto-san."

Tetsurou's eyes popped open.

Shock bristled within him, and he felt listless as he was held up.

Bokuto was here?

"You have to be kidding me," he said. "You're telling me _Bo_ is an agent too? I'm sorry, but that doesn't compute."

Akaashi's irritation visibly increased. He glared at him.

"I see no reason why not."

"I don't know!" Tetsurou blurted out roughly. "He just, well, he's a terrible liar for one, and he wouldn't hurt a fly. At least that's what I've always thought. Sure, he's fit as hell, but you know it takes more than muscles to make it in this field."

Akaashi's eyes darkened.

"I will excuse your words, once. But you're wrong. He's quite capable when he has a reason to drive him."

The dagger-sharp edge to Akaashi's response made Tetsurou settle, some of his indignation receding. He didn't mean what he'd said. There was nothing wrong with Bokuto, no real limit on what he thought Bokuto could accomplish. But tonight's revelation was a rude awakening. He didn't know vital details about two of the closest people in his life. Tetsurou wasn't sure what he knew anymore. All he wanted was clarity. Some sign to tell him he wasn't a total idiot and a bad friend.

On a basic level, it was understandable that they hadn't told him they were agents. Like Akaashi pointed out, Tetsurou couldn't be angry, because he had done the same thing.

But it hurt, more than a little, to know that they had known about him but kept their mouths shut.

Tetsurou's lips twitched, at a loss of how to move foreward. He felt dejected.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, knowing he could do at least that much. "I'm sure Bo is... great at what he does. I'm just upset."

"You are too soft, Kuroo-san," Akaashi stated. The anger in his eyes was missing in action, replaced by a neutral stare. "I would worry, but that's not all there is to you. Bokuto-san is similar. I envy you both for being so strong when you feel things on such a deep level."

"...Is that a compliment, Akaashi?" 

He earned a sigh for his efforts.

"It's an observation. But if that will tide you over for the hike, take it as one."

Tetsurou laughed.

Despite the way his brain was swimming around the edges, weighed down by the drug and his emotional state, he had room for fondness. Once in a blue moon, Akaashi let something slip that reminded Tetsurou that there was more to him than biting comments and single-minded strictness.

Even if the two of them had kept a secret from each other, that didn't change growing up together. All the moments they'd shared, good and bad. Once they ironed out the details, and everyone was on the same page again, Tetsurou had no intention of backing off from their friendship.

"I'm definitely going to."

"If you must."

Footsteps pounded on the cobblestones of the castle walkway, making them refocus. Within seconds, Bokuto's solid form jogged into view, moonlight illuminating the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. He wore clothing that mirrored the auction's waitstaff - black pants and vest, white dress shirt. His two-toned hair was down, fluffy but contained in its gel-free state. 

It wasn't unheard of for Bokuto to forgo his favorite style these days, but it was still weird to see when Tetsurou was used to owl horns.

Bokuto halted, eyes flickering over Tetsurou and stopping at the blade sticking out of his arm.

"What happened?" The seriousness departed, washed away by a new, concerned slant to his voice. "I heard lots of shots from inside. Where's the knife from?"

"Kuguri," Tetsurou said. "He didn't like that I wasn't going to stay still and get shot."

"By Keiji?" Bokuto asked, confused.

If he didn't want to sound like he was mocking him, Tetsurou might have laughed. Now that he knew Akaashi's skillset, it might be worth brushing up on his evasive maneuvers. He had no doubt that if Akaashi had wanted to take out either of the snakes, he would have. His shots were calculated to scare them off, not kill.

"No," Akaashi interjected. "I figured I should help Kuroo-san out. He was careless enough to get himself caught, and Nohebi's interim leader had a gun to him."

Tetsurou glowered, but he couldn't exactly say it wasn't true.

He had been careless, and he had gotten caught. 

But Akaashi didn't have to rub that in.

"Oh." The word dropped from Bokuto's lips innocently as he took the explanation in stride. "Well, good thing you were there." His eyes once again fixed on the blade sticking out of Tetsurou's arm. "But not good you got stabbed, Kuroo. That sucks."

"Bo, you are the definition of sympathy," Tetsurou quipped, a little salty still. "Sucks is an understatement. Now, do you think you could give me a hand? I think poor Akaashi is struggling to bear the weight of my chiseled physique."

"I could drop you then, Kuroo-san," Akaashi cut in. "If you're concerned about me being tired."

Bokuto walked closer, slotting his arm in underneath Tetsurou's good one.

"Move over. I've got him, Keiji." 

Akaashi retracted his grip, letting Bokuto take over the job. With a few minor adjustments, Tetsurou found himself standing upright again, leaning his weight on Bokuto for balance. Bokuto's arm wrapped around his midsection. His eyes ran up and down the length of Tetsurou's body.

"Are your legs injured?" Bokuto asked, making another pass as if double-checking he hadn't missed some obvious clue.

"No. The snakes gave me some kind of drug. My brain is fine, but whatever it is, it's messing with my coordination. I can't move right."

Bokuto frowned.

He turned toward Akaashi, concern on his face. The two men shared a long look, communicating through their weirdly clairvoyant connection to each other. Tetsurou wondered what was being asked, but it seemed private if Bokuto wasn't going to say anything aloud.

"It's fine, Bokuto-san," Akaashi stated reassuringly. "We need to leave. Kuroo-san's team is at the ranger station I showed you before."

Bokuto's concern didn't evaporate completely, but he refocused. Shifting his attention back to Tetsurou, he gave him a faint smile.

"That's a long hike. You up for it, Kuroo?"

Tetsurou smiled too.

"As long as you hold me in your loving arms, buddy."

Bokuto blinked, but then warmth spread through his expression, morphing it into a true grin. That more than anything gave Tetsurou some strength back. Perhaps enough to walk five miles up a mountain in the dark.

"I'll never let you fall," Bokuto laughed, squeezing Tetsurou's waist as if to illustrate that promise.

Akaashi cleared his throat.

"If we are all in agreement, let's head out. Nekoma just might want their missing agent returned to them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to laugh at Kuroo, a literal secret agent, with all sorts of training, and he doesn't realize his best friends do the same job. Misses every clue. Too trusting, Kuroo. Anyway... I'm excited to bring BokuAka into the fold. I have a lot of backstory in mind about them in this AU, particularly about Akaashi's past and how it made him the way he is. Let's just say he had a rough life prior to meeting Bokuto & Kuroo in their early teens.


End file.
